Unbound
by SinfulFox
Summary: Undercover FBI agent Isabelle Spicer has been clawing her way up Falcone's ranks for months when he sends her to join Fish Mooney's crew and keep tabs on their activities. But when she starts to develop an unexpected and uncanny relationship with one of her lackeys, things quickly get complicated; with more and more roles to juggle, she may drop the wrong ball. [OC x Oswald]
1. Down the Rabbit Hole

** UNBOUND**  
_Chapter 1: Down the Rabbit Hole_

**a/n**; this story begins about two months prior to the Waynes' shooting.

* * *

Detective James Gordon pressed his thumb against his temple, closing his eyes momentarily to groan away his headache as he shifted in the seat of his car. A drug deal stakeout had sounded like fun, but he was quickly realizing how untrue that really was. It was all just one long waiting game...

His head suddenly perked up as he saw movement ahead through the darkness; a large form dressed in a heavy coat carrying a silver briefcase slowly shuffled under the dim illumination of the loading dock's lamp post, and right on cue, a smaller figure fluttered out from the shadows on his opposite, gracefully moving into the light to face her dealer. Gordon's breath was silent, hearing only the beating of his heart as he sat up and leaned forward, his hand moving to rest on his gun as he ran over the correct procedures in his mind.

The female smiled and laughed, pulling out a large manila envelope from within her jacket and waving it in front of her. The larger male held up the briefcase with one hand, and with the other opened it up to allow her to inspect the money.

_Wait for the exchange,_ the rookie detective told himself, _wait for the exchange._

Just before handing over the envelope, the girl hesitated, her soft facial features twisting into a curious expression as she quickly grabbed one of the stacks of cash. Within a fraction of a moment, everything changed; she tossed back the money and stuffed the envelope back into her jacket, and the male snapped the case shut before whipping out a glock – but not before her pistol fired a bullet into his shoulder.

_Shit! Shit!_ Fumbling with the handle of the door, he jumped out of his car and sped towards the two, gun in hand. "Stop right there, Gotham P.D!" As soon as she saw him, the young woman took off running. He chased after her, scrambling over wooden crates to keep up, and ended up blocking her off in an alley between two of the warehouses. On the other side was a chain-link fence, and before she could scurry up, he called out to her. "Freeze or I'll shoot!"

It seemed to work as it made her stop, and after a moment she dropped to the ground and turned to face him.

"Drop your weapon! Put the gun on the ground!"

Calmly, she took her pistol from the pocket of her jacket and slowly bent down, placing it on the cold ground before standing up, her hands nonchalantly in the air. "Fine. You win." She spoke with a soft tone, and he walked forward to cuff her.

* * *

"Can I please talk with your captain now?" She asked, shuffling from side to side in her uncomfortable chair as Detective Gordon sat across from her, nothing but a small wooden table in between them.

"Tch, the captain has no need to waste her time on you – now tell me, who are you getting your drugs from?"

Gently tossing locks of her deep red-dyed hair from her face, she watched him for a moment before playfully biting her lip. "Gee, maybe if ya brought down the captain, I might fill you in!"

"I know you've got ties to Falcone," he continued, leaning forward, "but I need to know who your supplier is."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed and leaned closer, her lips twitching into a grin as they parted. "We hold these truths to be self-evident~" she said quietly with a bit of a melody behind it. "That all men are created equal, that they are endoooowed—" she broke to laugh as he growled and slammed his fist on the table before standing up to pace. "Why are you so stressed, detective? You should let loose, live a little. May be time for a paid vacation, eh?"

The door suddenly clicked open and the unit's captain popped her head in. "Gordon?"

The girl's eyes quickly lit up, which only agitated him even more. "I've got this under control, Captain, there's no need to—"

As he spoke, she fully entered the room. "Detective Gordon—"

"No really, I've got this, you've got more important—"

"Gordon—"

"—to attend to, I can handle this—"

"For god sakes, Gordon, she's one of us!"

The female nearly jumped out of her chair. "Whoa, Captain, I don't think the entire department heard you there!"

"Excuse me?!"

The Captain quickly turned and shut the door behind them before crossing her arms and turning to the detective. "Isabelle Spicer, undercover fed. She's been weaseling her way up with Falcone for the past few months, gathering intel, monitoring growth..."

"Wait, she's an unde—" he stopped as he glanced over to her, his eyes widening as she stood up, tossing her handcuffs to the floor and rubbing her wrists.

"Yeah. Sorry to put you through all the hassle, had to play the part." Walking over, she smiled and extended a hand. "But now it's nice to officially meet you, and please, I prefer Belle."

It was his turn to watch her for a moment, before finally nodding and shaking her hand. "Yeah, uh. Pleasure's mine. So… what now?"

"We release her," the Captain said, pretty matter-of-factly. "Say there wasn't any evidence, or she had an alibi. Something, anything, and keep it vague."

"Then I'll return and say you guys let me go once you couldn't find anything. I'll look more competent as a criminal and he'll have no reason to retaliate against the cops, even if the entire deal was a set-up. As soon as I saw the tracers under the cash, I knew a bust was coming – you might wanna train your marks better."

"So we let you go, just like that?"

"I'm sure we'll see each other around," Belle said with a wink as she walked past them to wait patiently by the door, "but right now, I gotta get back to work!"

The Captain nodded, and with a sigh, Gordon opened the door for them and escorted Belle out of the station.

* * *

"Tracers?"

"Yes, sir. The police must have set him up for the deal."

The older Falcone slowly exhaled and drummed his fingers against his desk. "But the police didn't bust you with the drugs?"

"No sir, I stashed them while I was running. Went and picked them up on the way here." Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out the envelope, crumpled from being wedged through the cracks of a crate, and placed it on his desk.

"So they let you off."

"Yes, sir."

"Good," he grumbled to himself, swiveling away in his chair. "Good work. In fact… I think you could stand for a promotion of sorts."

"A… promotion?" Her jade eyes lit up, and she instantly wished she'd at least tried to hide the excitement in her voice. However, her eagerness seemed to amuse Falcone as he turned to face her again.

"You don't disappoint, Spice, even when things go south. Especially when things go south. And I know some people who seem to take things south a lot more often than I like."

Belle's eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing as she searched the database of knowledge within her brain. "F-Fish Mooney, sir?"

"Ha – even you can see it, then. Mooney's excellent, and she's got style, I give her that. But sometimes her style is more important than following the rules."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Think of it as a transfer. I'll send you to work for Mooney, but I want you to keep a close eye on her and her lackeys. Be my eyes for me, if you will. Let me know of anything suspicious, anything I wouldn't approve of."

"Y-yes, sir! I'd be honored to be your eyes and ears."

"Fish will be your new boss – but don't forget I'm above her. You listen to her, but report to me. Got it?"

"Understood, sir. Kind of…" she couldn't help but grin sheepishly, "like undercover work?"

"Hah, yeah. An undercover agent of crime, whatever helps you remember your role. I'll make the arrangements tonight, and starting tomorrow, you'll be one of Mooney's lackeys."

* * *

Isabelle Spicer stood before the alarmingly casual and non-threatening club entrance. A neon red fish skeleton burned brightly in the window even in the daylight, and for the fifth time, she pulled out her Nokia flip and popped it open to check the time. 8:02 am. It would be her first day since going undercover in Gotham that she would not be reporting directly to Carmine Falcone but instead to Fish Mooney, to whom the former had assigned her to keep an eye on. Her dyed red velvet hair appeared even brighter against the neon fish's glow, her soft emerald eyes locked onto the door as she mentally pleaded with herself to buck up and walk in there like the charismatic criminal she needed to play.

This was just like years ago, back when she was in high school. She'd just transferred to a new school after moving, and on her first day, she had frozen just outside the door to her classroom. She knew how simple it should have been to put on a smile, waltz on in like she owned the place, and simply introduce herself and take her place in the class - but she silently cursed the overwhelming shyness that paralyzed her. After a few minutes of begging herself to please _stop being herself_ for once, she had managed to reach out and open the door. Past the point of no return, she then forced one step in front of the other, consciously reminding herself how to walk so that she wouldn't stumble or freeze at the stares of her curious classmates. Or, in this case, the imposing broad-shouldered man who squinted at Belle with an unamused curiosity.

"And who the hell are you?"

"Oh, good morning! I'm Belle, uh, Isabelle Spicer? I'm from Falc-"

"You the Falcone girl?" He sneered, his eyes crawling up and down her form in a way that made her skin crawl. "Hah, he's gotta be jokin' if he thinks-"

"Ahhh!" They both jumped slightly and turned to look as the Queen of Crime herself came out from around the corner in gold pumps and a sleek dress, her black hair styled in a short pixie cut with magenta-frosted bangs. "You must be Belle~" She flashed her white teeth in a wide grin as she strutted over. "I've heard great things about you, but," she quickly scanned over the younger female, "you aren't at all what I was expecting."

Perhaps for a young woman of average height and slightly below-average weight, with a slender build and delicate features, she really didn't look the part of a criminal - or even a federal agent, for that matter. Dressed in a low-cut blouse and a skirt with knee-high boots, she was perhaps the last thing one would imagine when thinking of a mobster. But then again, deceiving appearances often came in handy and played out in her favor.

Except for right now, of course, with the other guys coming out to see the commotion and a growing number of eyes gazing over her. It was very likely that she visibly shivered, but she was too uncomfortable in general to know for sure.

"Trust me, I'm well aware," Belle joked nervously with a quiet laugh, "cursed with a baby face, but hey, at least when I'm 60 I'll still look good, right?"

Fish gave a courtesy chuckle as she continued to examine her, then turned to the male. "Frankie, go fetch me the invoice for 42nd while I introduce our new little bird to the crew." He nodded and slumbered off, and she turned her back to Belle giving a nonchalant gesture over her shoulder for the newbie to follow.

Belle could hardly keep her sights from wildly fluttering around the classy, exquisitely decorated nightclub. It was beautiful and elegant, and she almost felt excited to be able to work here - Mooney definitely had a stylish flair, which Belle was now supposed to keep in check, but admittedly she looked forward to seeing just what her dramatic flair was like. Several males stood before her as Fish extended an arm.

"My right-hand, Butch Gilzean~" she spoke with a purr as a tall, rounded man gave Belle a jovial smile and offered his hand. She nodded, shaking his hand and returning the smile. The next was a Hispanic male, who quickly introduced himself as Juan and took Belle's hand not for a shake but for a polite kiss. The third was black with a bit of an overgrown 5-o-clock shadow, who simply nodded and introduced himself as Tiu.

"Tiu," Belle repeated with a smile, "that's an interesting name... is it European?"

"Filipino, actually," he spoke in a deep voice, with a matter-of-factly frown, or perhaps that was his default expression, "had some Filipino ancestors, it's been a family name."

"Oh, wow~ Well, it's nice to meet you!"

And then... there was the last member of Mooney's crew. He appeared significantly different than his fellow goonies - he was slightly shorter, though still taller than Belle, and quite a bit scrawnier. His skin was pale - almost grey in tone - and dark patches rested underneath his eyes. He stood still but it seemed like it was taking great effort to do so. However, his face suddenly seemed to light up as a wide, friendly grin stretched from ear to ear. "O-Oswald," he said with such a fragile and airy voice as he held out his hand, "it's a real pleasure, ma'am. I look forward to working with you."

She couldn't help but grin back, gently taking his hand. "Easy with the ma'am, though, call me Belle. But the pleasure's all-"

"He's just the grunt," Juan interrupted with a snort, "don't mind him. We call him Penguin-"

_His voice trailed off_ as Belle's attention went from his words to the sudden change in demeanor before her - to Oswald. His muscles tensed ever so slightly, his grin faded, his eyes grew darker before they flickered away to the floor, his hand quickly retreating from hers.

"Heh, it's okay," she quickly said with a reassuring smile as a sharp pang of sympathy shot through her chest, "back in high school, I mouthed off to one of the popular girls and her friends poured milk over my head, and everyone called me Moo-Moo for the rest of the year."

His eyes returned to hers again, the corners of his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. "Th-that's horrible." She felt better once she saw a bit of light return, a hint of amusement in his expression.

_"Boss!"_ They all turned as Frankie came back holding a small leather-bound ledger. "Everything's up to date," he said with a nod, handing the book to Mooney. She took it and smiled, slipping it open and quickly flipping to a specific page before handing it over to Belle.

"You come with a great recommendation letter," she raised a brow as her carefully manicured, long nails reached over to drum against the open book, "but I need to see some results before I can rest easy. It's collection day for all the businesses on 42nd, and here's a list of what everyone owes. Bring back my money, we'll have a little welcoming party."

Looking down at the neat, handwritten chart of business names and numbers, Belle nodded and mustered up the most confident smile she could. "Yes, ma'am~ Just don't start without me!" Taking a few steps back, she nodded once more before turning and leaving. Mooney slowly crossed her arms, watching intently as her new employee eagerly left the club.

"Isn't..." Oswald spoke softly, "Isn't Ronnie's on 42nd?"

Mooney let out a sudden laugh. "I don't have any use for a pretty face floating around here unless they're on a stage. If she's worth anything, she'll come back**alive**."

* * *

**Next chapter...** _"Just Business"_

"(Who is this girl?)" he asked, the numerous Yakuza members around him suddenly turning and staring at Belle with an animalistic curiosity. She didn't like it.

"(She's the one who's been extorting our businesses all morning. Works with Fish Mooney.)"

"(I see. They have more than enough territory in Gotham, I think, they can afford to leave alone our little corner. Send a message. Kill the girl.)"


	2. Just Business

**UNBOUND**  
_Chapter 2: Just Business_

note; omg guys ;-; thank you so much for all the faves and reviews so far! I love you all!

* * *

While covert-operations training never covered the specific situation of how to extort money for her new crime boss, Belle _had_ been taught over and over again how to think on her feet, plan on the fly, and adapt to any situation lest she be killed on the spot. She may not have been the most socially graceful human being, but she had an unusual confidence in her abilities to bullshit and stay alive - those were her two greatest skills. So even though she had little to no idea what she was about to do, she casually strolled into the electronics store on 42nd Street and approached the manager, who was out on the floor adjusting the inventory before the day's customers. He looked up over his shoulder and smiled politely to her, having heard the small chime above the door when she entered. "Good morning, ma'am! Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, actually! You're the manager, right?"

He cocked a brow. "Uh oh, that question's never good."

"Oh, no! Nothing bad!" She smiled and waved her hands in front of her. "I'm Belle, I work for Fish Mooney and I just..." Her voice tapered off as she watched the color drain from his face. His jaw suddenly clenched and she instinctively darted forward just as he spun on his heel and ran down the aisle, throwing his arm out to knock over product boxes to trip her up. She jumped over and dodged them and easily caught up with the older man, grabbing the back of his collar and slamming him up against the shelves. "Why?!" She asked, exasperated as she pinned his arm behind his back to better hold him in place. "Why the running? I said it was nothing bad, I'm just here to collect the money!"

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he lowered his head and clenched his jaws again before responding. "_Fine._ Fine. You can have your damn money, it's in the back."

"Thank you," she said before releasing her grip, "see? That wasn't hard, and didn't require you to make a mess in your own store."

With a huff, he defeatedly scuffled toward the back of the store with Belle following close behind. Opening the **employees only** door, he moved over to a desk and unlocked a drawer with the key around his lanyard. Sliding open the drawer, he reached in and pulled out a small envelope and pushed it towards her with a grimace. She quickly peeked inside to check the cash - it seemed to be the correct amount - and stuffed it into her messenger bag-style purse.

"You sure you wanna do this? Akahara isn't going to be happy."

Looking back up to the manager, her brows furrowed slightly, her eyes narrowing as his statement seemed to smack her in the head like a sack of bricks. "Wait... who?"

His jaw dropped a bit as he stared at her in an angry disbelief. "Akahara," he repeated slowly, "who runs the _Yakuza_ in Gotham."

Her eyes slowly widened, her heart sinking deep into the pit of her stomach. A nervous laugh trickled past her lips as she closed her eyes and placed her fingertips against the side of her face. "This... This isn't Mooney's territory." _Well played, Fish Mooney_, she thought to herself, beginning to understand the true meaning of this task she'd been given. She'd made the rookie mistake of assuming these businesses had been already made compliant - or were at the very least aware that Mooney would be seeking collection. But no, she had been sent to another gang's territory, the Yakuza of all criminal organizations.

"No shit, kiddo. I dunno what kind of stunt Mooney is tryna pull but it ain't gonna end pretty."

"Don't... don't worry. I'll get this all sorted out somehow," she said, more to herself than to him, "you just sit tight."

* * *

Despite the sudden realization of how complicated this task really was, Belle was determined to see it through. Success could substantially increase Mooney's trust in her loyalty _and_ capabilities all on Day 1. But the other businesses didn't go over any more smoothly than the first.

There was the jewelry store...

_{Belle's widened green eyes blinked nervously as they stared down the barrels of a shotgun. "You tell Fish Mooney she can go fuck herself!"}_

And the fiasco in the farmer's market...

_{With a powerful kick, she sent her boot into the shin of one guy while thrusting her elbow into the other's stomach to escape his clutch. With her now free arm, she grabbed the first by his hair and pulled him down before bringing her knee up against his face.}_

Then of course, the incident in the bakery...

_{Rushing over to the thug as he pinned the bakery owner against the ground, Belle gave a powerful kick to his ribs. He buckled and rolled off the owner, and she quickly helped the older man to his feet. The gangster however was already back on his own feet and grabbed her from behind. Stomping on his foot, his grip loosened enough for her to spin around and headbutt up against his chin. While he was stunned, her knuckles collided against his face and with another kick to his shins, he was back on the floor._

_"Seems like Mooney has better protection than Akahara," the owner told her as he fished out an envelope of money from the back, "so here you go, please send my regards."}_

By the time she reached the last storefront on the street, Belle looked quite the mess. Her hair was messy and frazzled, her nose had bled at some point (and though she wiped most of it away, there was still a fringe of dried blood around her nostril), her lower lip was cut, and her knuckles were skinned and bloody. However, if getting a little tussled up from violence was enough to bother her, she wouldn't have been here in the first place. She took a moment to collect herself as she stared up at the big sign above the shop.

**Ronnie's Pizzeria**

It looked innocent enough, and not even open yet - it was only 11:30am after all - but she could see the lights on in the back. Just one more store owner to woo and she'd have her ticket into Mooney's crew - and be one step closer to earning her trust.

With a gentle and polite tap on the window of the front door, she caught someone's attention. They approached the door but shrugged and shook their head, the universal sign for "what are you doing, you idiot, we're not open". However she pointed down to the door handle with an insisting gesture, as if replying with "I don't care, I really need to get inside this place". After a couple more failed attempts to shoo her away, he finally unlocked and opened the door.

"We're closed, ma'am," he said with irritation in his tone.

"Yes! I know, and I'm sorry, but I really would like to speak with the owner? Ronnie? Is he around?"

The guy gave a low chuckle and shook his head. "Nah, Ronnie ain't around. If you want pizza, we open at 3. Come back then-"

"Well are you the manager? I know it's probably not the best time but I've got business to discuss-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold on there... What kind of business?" His entire demeanor changed; he stood up just a tad straighter, his chest puffed out ever so slightly, his voice lowered.

"The kind of business I only need to speak about with whoever's in charge here."

"In charge? You wanna see the guy who's in charge?"

"Yes, please! If you don't mind!"

His scoff turned into a smirk as he stepped aside to let her in, and followed her past the rows of tables up to the counter.

"(Hey!)" he shouted in Japanese towards the kitchen, "(one of you get out here and say you're the manager!)"

Something didn't set right with Belle, and she became very quiet and very still - and very thankful that Japanese was one of the languages she'd taken in college. She faked a smile as a shorter and younger Asian male popped out from the kitchen and stood opposite them on the other side of the counter.

"Yes, I am the manager," he spoke with a slight accent, "how can I help you?"

Her brain was rushing through ideas, notes, acquired knowledge, and potential scenarios at a hundred miles an hour. How should she play this? What card would have the best chance of getting her the results she needed - or at the very least allowed her to survive? And what exactly had she walked into?

"Well, first of all good morning, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm Belle," with as friendly a smile as she could muster, she casually leaned against the counter, "I work with Fish Mooney and she's expecting some money today, I believe."

The 'manager' grew very quiet and still, before glancing over to the guy next to her. They hesitated for a moment, and the tension became too strong for her to bear.

"M-Maybe I'll just come back tomo-"

She froze as an assault rifle pointed its long nose at her chest, and with a slow turn of her head, the man beside her calmly held a pistol aimed at her gut. Lovely.

"No, stay. Please."

"Are you sure?" She laughed nervously, looking from one to the other, trying to calculate how to get out of this alive but quickly remembering there must be others in the back. "I mean, I could come back at 3."

* * *

"Ow! Is this really- ahh, necessary?" Belle huffed as two Japanese thugs on either side of her held her arms against her back and pushed her forward. "I can walk on my own!"

"Shhh," the man before her said, the one who had let her inside in the first place, as he led them to the room behind the kitchen, "you wanted to meet the man in charge, right?"

"I'd hate to intrude~" she spoke with childishly pouted lips as they entered the room. At the far end sat a mid-thirties Japanese male in an exquisite business suit - everything about him was well-groomed and gave him an air of upscale crime boss. She could literally feel her heart sink as her escorts greeted him, confirming her assumption. It was Akahara, the notorious leader of Gotham's own Yakuza.

"(Who is this girl?)" he asked, the numerous Yakuza members around him suddenly turning and staring at Belle with an animalistic curiosity. She didn't like it.

"(She's the one who's been extorting our businesses all morning. Works with Fish Mooney.)"

"(I see. They have more than enough territory in Gotham, I think, they can afford to leave alone our little corner. Send a message. Kill the girl.)"

Her eyes widened suddenly. "No! Wait! (Wait a minute!)"

Akahara tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes gleaming. "You can speak Japanese?"

"Yes! Hai!" She nodded. "(Look, this has all been a misunderstanding-)"

"(Ugh, she's said that a couple times already)"

"(-if you'd let me explain the situation you'd understand! Please!)" Those at her sides grabbed her and began to drag her out, but she resisted. "(It can only be of your benefit to hear me out!)"

She felt slightly victorious when Akahara raised a hand to motion for them to stop. "(Fine. Explain.)"

Part of being an expert at bullshitting your way out of sticky situations was knowing when pure, transparent honesty was your best bet. With a deep breath, she sighed and began telling him about working with Falcone - and how he was losing trust in Mooney, and thus sent her to keep tabs on Mooney and her operations.

"(Today was my first day with her, and... I guess this was some sort of a test. I honestly had no idea this wasn't our territory, she made it sound like it was a daily chore. I would have never disrespected your authority like that, had I known.)"

Rolling and flexing his shoulders, he slowly nodded as she spoke, and once she was done, he neared closer and closer to her until he stood right in front of her. "(So, you're telling me... you've stolen my money, beaten up my crew, terrorized my businesses, walked straight into my turf... and you had no idea what your boss put you up to?)"

_Shit_, she cursed to herself, wondering how bloody and bruised she was about to become. Blinking for a moment, her gaze fell to the side, a light blush surfacing across her cheeks. "(Yes...)"

There was a long moment of silence, and it made her feel terribly uncomfortable. She kept waiting for a blow to the stomach, a slap across the face, a bullet to the head... but there was nothing. Just silence. And then - laughter.

Looking back up, her eyes widened again in surprise as Akahara laughed. He took a step back, leaning over with his hands on his knees, and laughed. "(You're crazy!)" he spat out in amusement between bouts of laughter, and even the other gangsters around her began to chuckle and snort. Belle was dumbfounded, and didn't know what to expect next - was this a play to get her to lower her guard? It only made her all the more defensive.

"(Shit, someone get this girl a drink.)" He spoke with a wide smile, waving his arm for a thug to leave to the kitchen. "(Belle, right? You're good. I like you.)"

"(I... I don't understand?)"

"Listen, Belle," he spoke in heavily accented English, "I have an idea."

_Uh oh._

"Let's say," he continued, "I let you off the hook. You keep the money, you keep your head, you go back to Fish Mooney."

The grunt returned from the kitchen with a bottle of sake and two cups, giving one to her and one to Akahara before opening the bottle and filling up both. She nodded her thanks before turning back to the Yakuza leader. "Alright, what's the catch?"

"(So suspicious! You don't trust me!) Mooney and Falcone have the police, the mayor, the government in their pocket. We don't. Something goes wrong in our corner, we have to deal with it ourselves, no help."

"So you want to benefit from our connections."

"(Yes!)" With a grin, he held up his cup - and she held up hers, before they both drank. "(Your bosses are powerful people!) If we have a problem in the future, maybe we can go to them for help."

"I, uh... I can't make you any promises, or speak for Mooney or Falcone - but I can guarantee you'll have an audience. (They'll hear you out, at the very least.)"

"(Excellent!) That's all I ask for. Though, I'm sure you'll be able to convince them to help us, somehow, when and if the time comes." Looking over to the guy on her right, he smiled. "Ryosuke."

The man nodded, then let her go but began rummaging at her sides. She quickly flailed and waved her hands at him. "Whoa whoa, what are you doing?!"

"Looking for your phone," he said calmly with a wink.

Her cheeks burned an even brighter red as she held up a finger, then turned her back to him as she reached into her bra to slip out her cell before turning around once more. "H-Here." With a somewhat flirty chuckle, he took it from her, flipped it open and began punching buttons. "Wait, what are you doing...?"

After a moment, a song began to play from within his pocket, and he looked up with a smirk. "Getting your number. And now you have mine."

She watched with horror the pure amusement in his eyes as heat flared across her face, and she snatched the phone back and slid it back into the side of her bra. "Good. So, am I... free to go now?"

Akahara nodded with a grin, and Ryosuke offered to lead her outside, which made Belle blush awkwardly the entire way to the door. "Come back and see us, any time you'd like."

"Th-thank you, I'll be around," she muttered before walking off down the street. She could hear nothing but the sound of her footsteps and her wildly beating heart the entire way back to Mooney's Nightclub. _What in the hell just happened?!_

* * *

**Next chapter...** _"Welcome to the Club"_

The plopping envelopes caused Fish to break her gaze and she looked down to them with both suspicion and curiosity. "What is this?"

"The money I collected."

Slowly her eyes raised back up to Belle's. "What?"

"It's all there. I double-counted on my way back."

"...from 42nd."

"Yep."

"42nd _Street?_"

"Yes ma'am."


	3. Welcome to the Club

**UNBOUND**  
_Chapter 3: Welcome to the Club_

* * *

_"When you're trying to negotiate with any kind of boss," the professor said as he slowly paced before the auditorium full of fresh trainees, "it's not unlike being a salesman. Only you have to figure out what product they're looking to buy. Everyone's looking for something - you figure out what they want and maybe you'll keep your life."_

_A young, 21-year-old Isabelle Spicer furiously jotted notes down as he spoke. 'Tailor negotiation to target's needs', she scribbled down with a couple hasty exclamation marks._

_"Now let's say you're in the Middle East. Surprise surprise, things don't go as planned, things go south real quick and you find yourself being held before some Arabian arms dealer or drug smuggler. You've got about fifteen seconds to change his mind before your head rolls on the ground - what do you say?"_

_"Can we fight our way out?" one guy piped up from the front row._

_"No, there's too many guys and too many guns."_

_"What about guns, then?" someone else called out. "If they're an arms dealer, I could offer them more merchandise. Tell them I have connections to powerful buyers."_

_"An arms dealer, Michael, would already have his guns as well as a reliable supplier and buyers. If you're gonna sell ice to an eskimo, you'll have to do better than that."_

_Chuckles rumbled through the small class as Michael shifted in his seat. "Money, then. Everybody wants money."_

_"Ah, money. But that's the exact reason why money is a weak bargaining chip - unless you're dealing with common criminals or some street thug, chances are you don't have enough money to convince them to let you walk out of that room alive. Come on, think about-"_

_"V-Viagra...?" Belle spoke up suddenly, sheepishly raising her hand and turning red when every head in the room swiveled to her direction. More chuckles filled the room but the professor watched her closely, silently asking her to continue. Nervously, she began to drum her pen against her notebook. "Well, sexual performance is a uh, common issue of concern over there, especially in such high-stress communities, and it's also a culture that puts a great amount of personal shame on these issues, so um... I mean, Viagra pills sell like hot cakes on the black market, there have even been drug rings busted for producing counterfeit pills so there's this stigma of possibly buying fake pills... whereas, coming from the West, we have a very common and public access to it, so uh... it would just make sense to, or at least to me, to offer them legit blue pills. Having a legitimate supplier would give them a huge reputation, and an advantage in the market, like that's just good business, right?"_

_After a moment, the professor smiled and laughed. "Aha! Good work, Belle. Have more confidence in your answer next ti-"_

_"Are you serious?" Michael groaned as he craned his head to look over at her. "The airhead suggests erection pills and that's what gets your approval?"_

_She frowned and stuck her tongue out at her rival agent as the professor replied. "Airhead, haha... Let me tell you something, Mike. Airheads are some of the most dangerous people - they don't follow the conventional train of thought. They don't enter a situation and see the same things other people do. They're unpredictable and take great risks, even when they don't understand the consequences. So tell me, what's even more dangerous than an airhead? An airhead with knowledge."_

* * *

It was only her second time entering Mooney's Nightclub, but she did so as if she'd done it every day for years - a stark contrast to just hours before when she stood nervously in front of that neon red fish skeleton. But Isabelle was tired, confused, in pain, and honestly a little upset with the hell her new boss just put her through. Was that going to be a common motif in Fish Mooney's behavior? Or was she just a special snowflake? Either situation didn't sit well with the undercover agent; she'd either have to go through hell over and over again, or Mooney had something against her. Thinking about that right now was too painful, however. In fact, everything was painful.

She shuffled around the corner to see the odd young male sitting at the bar, scribbling away - with his left hand, she noted. Oswald, his name was, who the others had nicknamed Penguin for some reason. Hearing her footsteps, his head perked up and his eyes widened when he saw her. Immediately dropping his pen, he stood up and quickly went over to her, and _she tried her hardest not to imagine a little penguin flapping its wings excitedly and rushing across the room_. She really did try.

"M-Miss Spicer! Are you alright?"

She'd forgotten how innocent and fragile his voice was, and it was such a welcoming sound after hearing deep, masculine, frightening voices threatening her all morning. She'd also forgotten how bad she must have looked, with blood-soaked toilet paper shoved in one of her nostrils and a ragged cloth wrapped around her injured hand. Her boots were scuffed with dirt and a bit of blood was spattered about her shirt.

Belle didn't speak, but instead gazed into this man's eyes. What a beautiful bright sapphire hue they had, and she could even see the little dark blue fractals spiraling out from his pupils. They were gorgeous, and full of what seemed to be genuine concern, and she noticed his brows beginning to twitch in confusion - oh god, she was staring. Her lips suddenly spread into a large grin as she held up her hand to give him a thumbs up. "Yep, never been better."

It didn't take long for his own expression to change into one of joy. "That's wonderful to hear! I wasn't sure if you'd be coming back, but I-I'm very glad you've returned safe, uh, for the most part."

"Heh, yeah I guess I survived the lion's den. So where's Fish? I'm carrying way too much cash on me, it's making me uncomforta-"

"Y-You... you have the... money, you got the money?" He asked, switching from a nervous laugh to a straight face.

"Of course, that's what I had to bring back, right?" Her fingers fumbled into her purse before pulling out the small leather-bound ledger Mooney had handed her before, and waved it back and forth in front of her. "Every last dollar is accounted for~"

His jaw dropped a tad and he quickly pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "Uh... she's this way. Follow me." She nodded and followed after him to Mooney's office. Rounding the corner, Oswald approached her desk and Belle stayed back a few feet, but Fish hardly looked up from whatever paperwork she was reading over.

"What is it, Oswald?" She finally asked, though her eyes were still glued to her papers.

"Uh, Miss Spicer is back and um-" He abruptly stopped when her stone cold gaze flickered up to his own eyes, as if he had been suddenly paralyzed. He even jumped a little, Belle observed with amusement. She felt the weight of that death stare when it flashed over to her direction, and Fish slowly sat up in her chair.

"Isabelle." She gave a half-smile, narrowing her eyes and tilting her head as she shifted her weight. "You look like you've had an interesting morning."

While Belle was non-confrontational in nature, she hadn't forgotten the magnitude of the task she had been given; it would have been suicide for any average goon to waltz into a notorious gang leader's home turf. She refused to show submissiveness, at least in this moment, and instead of freezing under Mooney's stare, Belle challenged it with her own fiery emerald sights and walked up to her desk nonchalantly. "Oh it was interesting, alright," she spoke with a smooth voice, pulling out several envelopes from her purse and dropping them all onto the desk, "and pretty fruitful, if I might add."

The plopping envelopes caused Fish to break her gaze and she looked down to them with both suspicion and curiosity. "What is this?"

"The money I collected."

Slowly her eyes raised back up to Belle's. "What?"

"It's all there. I double-counted on my way back."

"...from 42nd."

"Yep."

"42nd _Street?_"

"Yes ma'am."

She pursed her lips together for a moment, then looked back down to the envelopes and grabbed one, slipping her fingers in just to take a quick peak. But as soon as she saw the stacks of cash within, she dropped it like it was poison. "Where did you get this money?"

"Well, that one came from the farmer's market. This one here is from the ba-"

"What about Ronnie's? Ronnie's Pizzeria. Did you go there?"

"Yes. Their money is this one he-"

"Ronnie's on 42nd?"

"Yes ma'am," Belle repeated calmly, and just before Mooney asked again, she added, "the Yakuza's headquarters, right?" Mooney froze, and even though Oswald had only been watching from the sidelines, he froze, too. Again, there was a silent, unbearable tension that filled the room, but it was Belle who had control this time. She finally broke it with a grin and a laugh. "But it's cool, you know I didn't even know there was a Yakuza in Gotham! Akahara, the leader, he seems like a pretty cool guy, he shares your passion for elegance for sure. And the muscles on his thugs!"

"So you... met with them?" Mooney asked, still trying to figure out the full story as she again adjusted herself.

"Well, it was a bit coercive at first, but I explained the situation and you know what? He laughed! Thought it was pretty funny, and decided to let me off with a warning." She watched with great satisfaction as Mooney's face slowly relaxed, those eyes warming up as she sat back.

"You talked it out, made them laugh, and they let you go with all the money... just like that?"

"They, uh..." Her faint blush returned as she lowered her head, "they found the whole thing pretty hilarious. We drank a shot of sake and he said we were good, as long as it never happened again." _Not even back from her first task and she was lying_, but she didn't know how Mooney would react to Akahara's condition of being able to call in a free favor.

As she spoke, Fish stood up, taking the envelopes and dumped out each one's contents, quickly covering her desk in neatly wrapped green stacks. After a moment, she too grinned and began to laugh. "Ooh~ Falcone said you were good, but I had my doubts," her voice purred as she looked up and pointed to Belle, "I was wrong about you, you pretty little thing. _Crazy_ thing, too, to walk into a gang hideout and leave with their own money!" Gracefully floating around her desk and up to Belle, she took the girl's hands and gave them a friendly squeeze. "I didn't think you'd be back but I did make a promise. You're a part of the team now, and to celebrate, I'll have the boys take you out tonight!"

When they had first entered the room, Mooney was a cold-blooded viper - but now, standing before Belle laughing and smiling, she looked more like a proud mother. One thing she honestly loved about working undercover in organized crime was how easily everyone seemed to flip. They were all playing roles, playing whatever aspect of their personality that would give them the most benefits at the time. When they needed to act like violent psychopaths, they would; but they could quickly switch into a calm, proud, maybe even nurturing person. They were whatever they needed to be in order to get the most out of the moment, and that somehow comforted her. After years of thinking something was mentally wrong with her, she'd discovered how practical and useful her skills were, and couldn't think of any better way to hone her talent for emotional manipulation in order to use it for the greater good.

"Now, go get yourself cleaned up so Gilzean can show you around, give you the official tour. Then y'all can run all over town if you'd like."

"We won't celebrate here?"

"Are you kidding? Have my boys crunk up in my own club?" Mooney laughed, nodding her head towards the door. "Go on now." With an obedient nod, Belle turned and left. "Oswald, go take her some clean bandages for her hand."

"Yes, ma'am," He spoke, nearly startled from being addressed, and disappeared out the door.

* * *

Belle leaned over the sink in the employee break room, harshly scrubbing the dried blood from her gashed lower lip with a wet rag. She'd already cleaned up her nose, and was saving her hand for last since she really wasn't sure what she could do for it. First-Aid was never her strong suit; go figure.

Oswald soon appeared at the open doorway with a small pack of bandages, but visibly winced as he watched her rubbing at her now-actively-bleeding lip. "Oh! Uh, don't- ah, you, you shouldn't," he paused as she looked over to him with an inquisitive look, and he slowly entered the room and placed the bandages on the counter. "Don't rub your lip, see, it's starting to bleed again. And, doesn't that hurt?"

Lowering the rag from her burning lip, she sighed. "Yeah. So how do I do it?"

"You, uh- you just-" For some reason he seemed unable to simply explain it, and took the rag from her hand before pressing it gently against her lip. "You just hold it, there, like that. The bleeding will stop, and the uh, cold water keeps it from swelling."

"Sounds like you've had some busted lips yourself," she mused, a playful curiosity in her eyes.

He gave a soft smile and shrugged. "So.. wh-what happened, if I might ask?"

"I uh... threw my face into another guy's face."

His smile faded as he watched her, glancing from one eye to the other as he tried to get a read from her expression. She found it fascinating to watch him try and figure out her tone, but she couldn't hold back anymore and they both cracked grins at the same time.

"That, uh, sounds like a very effective fighting style," he said with a quiet laugh, lowering the rag to check that the bleeding had stopped. Out of habit, her fingertips flew up to prod at her lip and he frowned. "Don't poke at it!"

"Sorry," her hand lowered, but she quickly held it back up towards him, showing her hastily bandaged knuckles, "but uh... could you help me with this, too?"

He shook his head and laughed again, grabbing the fresh bandages. "Of course. So, how did you do it? What did you say to uh, Aka..."

"Akahara," she repeated, "and like I told Mooney, I told him the truth, that it was my first day working for her and she sent me on what obviously turned out to be a suicide mission. I had no idea the street hadn't been Mooney's territory. You know, that sort of thing."

Removing the old gaus, he carefully and gently dabbed her scraped hand. "And that worked?"

"Of course it did. Eastern culture puts a heavy price on dignity, honor, and respect. I figured if I came clean, I'd earn a little respect for it." She went to bite her lip from the sting of her knuckles, but quickly remembered her lip was hurt, too. "Even if I made myself seem a bit squeakier than I was."

His eyes flicked up to hers with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"I told them I had no idea I was walking into the Yakuza, but the manager of the very first business I hit told me it was their territory."

"Wait," he stopped, tuning his attention on her, "you... knew from the start? Why did you keep going?"

"I'd have looked silly running back here after that! And they'd be looking for me once they found out. The best thing was to keep going."

"To make yourself seem innocent?"

"To make it look like I knew what I was doing - or thought I knew what I was doing."

Looking back down to her hand, he slowly smirked and began to rewrap it. "And then throw your hands up afterwards and say you had no idea what was really going on."

"Exactly." Once he was done, she examined her hand and flexed her fingers a few times. "See, staying alive in front of a crime boss is like being a really good salesman. You just have to know what they'd wanna buy. Mooney, and Falcone even, you could probably buy your life back with a few stacks and some empty promises but the Yakuza... They're more abstract than that. They like the thrill, they like having stories to share. So, I gave them one about a bumbling, naive rookie. It was a gamble... but it worked, didn't it?"

"I suppose it did. But," he added with a playfully sly grin, "I think you should learn how to patch yourself up better if you plan to take on any more gangs."

She chuckled for a moment, letting it fade out into a sweet smile. "Why do that when I've got you to fix me up instead?" Gently rubbing her nose, she did her best to keep from giggling at his expression. He quickly took a step back and started to turn towards the door.

"Uh, we should go find Mr. Gilzean now so you can... um, be shown around properly. You ready?"

"Mhmm~" she replied with a hum before following him back out into the hallway. "And then it's party time!"

* * *

"So basically I'm a high-class waitress, right?"

Gilzean smirked as he leaned against the stainless steel kitchen counter, at the end of their tour. "Basically. You'll be one of the servers out on the floor, assigned a booth section and depending on how busy things are, you may work the bar, too."

"Sounds fun~" she cooed, placing her hands on her hips in an overly perky manner. "Do I get to wear a cute little cocktail dress?"

"Yeah, we've got uniforms!" He replied with a laugh. "And finally a gal that'll make 'em look good."

_Oh god, that was lame,_ she thought as she returned the wink he gave her. But he was Mooney's second-in-command; if she could win his approval, her other coworkers would be more likely to accept her as well. If she didn't sit well with him, she'd have to deal with a gang of criminals peeved at the newbie. Butch Gilzean's seal of approval was very valuable to her, and if she could win it with a bit of casual flirting, all the better.

"Ooh, do I get to carry a gun in a thigh-holster? A garter with a dagger?"

"Ohoho, you're dangerous, aren't ya?"

With a single, smooth motion, she lifted herself up and onto the edge of the counter and slid one leg over the other. "What better way to live than with a bit of danger? Besides, working with Falcone was absolutely boring - sure the executions were fun enough, the _torture_," her crossed legs tightened as she spoke, and inside her head she snickered at how he was clinging to her every word, "was classic and top-notch, but... everything else? Well... it's what you'd expect from a joint run by old men in suits."

"Heh, yeah," he breathed out, sliding ever so closer to her, "but Mooney, she's got style. Cutting edge kinda stuff. Trust me, it ain't boring very much here. Always somethin' happening."

"That's good to hear," she nearly whispered before uncrossing her legs and sliding back down to the ground. "But, tell me something, Gil~" She waited for him to lean just a bit closer before giving him a playful grin. "Do we get to off people in here?"

He laughed and shook his head. "No, no, not in here, Mooney would have a fit! Haha!" Placing a hand on her shoulder, he leaned closer to her ear. "That's what the alleyway is for." Giving her a pat, he continued walking towards the kitchen's exit. "But enough of that - all in due time! I hear we've got a party to throw for our crazy new recruit."

"Funny, I've heard the same thing!" she joked, slipping her phone out of her pocket and punching in a quick memo. _Alleyway coverage, unarmed servants._ Putting it away, she quickly followed him out. "So where are we headed?"

"A little underground place called My Alibi. You'll _love_ it."

* * *

**author's note;**

**oh my gosh, guys, I cannot tell you how amazing it has been to get so many reviews, follows, favorites, and messages! ;-; I'm usually so late to join a fandom and so I wasn't at all expecting to be one of the first (especially THE first!) to post a Gotham fic. Like, the pressure, yo... it's there. Not that it's a negative thing but IT'S THERE. So... I just wanna thank each and every one of you guys! ^_^ Every notification makes me so giddy. So here's a nice long chapter since I'm not sure how much I'll be able to write over the weekend. **

**But hopefully it's as entertaining as you found the first few chapters to be, and hopefully I can keep up the momentum and write out this nice looooong story. And yes, the events of the show will eventually happen in here and that's when the shit will really hit the fan! ;D but... before that arrives, I need to see some more episodes to know what the hell I'll be doing... xD so until that time comes, the story will narrate through Belle's experience in Fish Mooney's crew, from gang missions to cop missions and all kinds of interesting things in between... ^_^ and lots LOTS more Oswald in upcoming chapters because he's so adorable I just can't EVEN.**

* * *

**Next chapter...** _"Work Hard, Play Harder"_

"Oh god," she started laughing as he walked over to her, "we- we're like college freshmen."

"Only you would continue to laugh," he said, though he couldn't help a chuckle from escaping, "after, after puking your lungs out. F-f-fuck tequila."


	4. Work Hard, Play Harder

**UNBOUND**  
_Chapter 4: Work Hard, Play Harder_

* * *

Sunlight suddenly pelted the woman's closed eyelids like a sack of bricks, instantly waking her from her sleep and she quickly threw her arm over her face with a loud groan.

"Rise and shine, Agent Tequila!"

She didn't have to open her eyes to identify that overly perky male's voice. "What the fuck, McCall. Go away." She could hear the blinds of the rest of her windows being reeled up, a sound that seemed to drill painfully into the core of her brain, and felt the hellfire-warmth of sun beaming into her small apartment's bedroom.

"No can do, Spicer. Time to wake up, we've got some things to go over."

FBI Agent Jack McCall had been appointed as Belle's case handler. It was the closest thing an undercover agent had to a partner, since most undercover work was done solo; they were often the undercover's lifeline, the middleman contact between them and the FBI. It was the case handler's duty to collect regular reports, check in on their covert operative, and make sure they didn't get in too deep or lose themselves in their false role. He'd originally applied for the mission himself, but Jack was cursed with the stereotypical appearance of clean-cut, strong jaw'd handsome brown-haired special agent - he unfortunately looked exactly like what one would imagine for a young, fresh-out-of-training fed. Female appearances held much less concern since there was no one ideal image, and Isabelle had ended up getting the job over him. He was more than satisfied with being her handler, however, especially after reading her first few reports and realizing she was no typical cut-and-dry agent.

"Ughhhhh, no we don't," she muttered bitterly, pulling the covers up over her head. Somehow she believed she'd ended the conversation, but a moment later she was tumbling to the floor as McCall flipped over her mattress. "Ah shit- what the hell?!"

"Important stuff, Belles. Gotta get up."

She hissed and groaned, her eyes still closed, and slowly rolled over onto her stomach as she found her pillow and pulled it close to bury her face in it. "Belle's not in right now," she mumbled, "please leave a message."

"Jesus, how much did you have to drink?" He laughed, leaving her room and returning with a glass of water. Kneeling down next to her, he held the glass next to her head. "Doesn't seem fair, having to miss watching my partner get shitfaced for the first time. Come on, pull yourself together. Drink this, we'll get some breakfast, you'll be fine."

"You're not my partner yet," she moaned, forcing herself to sit up and actively attempted to peel her eyes open, "and getting _shitfaced_ isn't fun at all. Everything hurts. My name hurts." Taking the glass, she took a couple small sips and pressed her free hand against her head. "But... I've never been taken out like that before, it was nice... _Was_ nice."

"Having fun with your new buddies, huh?"

"Yeah. Falcone was all business, but Mooney?" She tried her best to smile, but the muscles in her face ached. "She's... got real flair. Her guys know how to have a good time."

"I uh, can't wait to hear about it in your report."

"What? _Oh shit._"

"Don't worry about it," he waved his hand. "that's why we're going in today. You'll give a verbal report, it'll be quicker and easier to do. Everyone at home base is pretty eager to hear about your exciting new developments."

With another groan, she handed him back the glass and stood up, staggering a few steps before regaining her balance and straightening her oversized t-shirt. "Can today just... not?" Shooting her partner a disgruntled glance as he chuckled, she shuffled into the bathroom and loomed over her sink, taking a minute to realize she was there to brush her teeth.

Leaning his shoulder against the doorway, McCall grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. "So, tell me about this party."

Running water over her toothbrush, she slowly cracked a grin.

* * *

_My Alibi_ was an underground nightclub and bar right at the heart of Gotham City, and was frequented almost solely by notorious gangsters, con artists, thieves, hired guns, and anyone else that darkened the streets. It was declared neutral territory, a place where all societal vermin were accepted and welcome - the perfect venue for holding a _'welcome to the mafia family'_ party. After getting to the grimy industrial section of the city, Gilzean and the others led her down a dark alleyway and through a gate with a foreboding "NO ENTRY" sign. They were met with armed guards, but they seemed to recognize Mooney's soldiers, and after she was vouched for, they were shown to the entrance. It looked like some abandoned warehouse's emergency exit, but as they opened the door and walked down the hallway to the official entrance, she could feel the floor underneath her pulsating and humming to the bassline of techno.

"Welcome to the club," Gilzean told her with a grin as he threw open the double doors and let the loud thumping music rush past her.

They all sat around a small, circular table, laughing and accidentally slamming their drinks down as they took turns sharing stories. Belle had to hold the back of her hand against her nose and mouth to keep from spewing her White Russian, her shoulders bouncing as Joseph Tiu recounted one of their business deals gone awry.

"-and the whole time I'm tryna calm down the damn Triad, who are ready to pump us full of lead, Juan here is screaming in Spanish and knockin' shit all over the place-"

"Hey hey, _un momento_, remember I had that thing stuck to my face-"

"That's right! _Mi cara, mi cara!_ I dunno what that thing's deal was but it hated you!"

"I tell you everytime, man, cats just don't like me!"

"Anyways, Belle, here I am keeping the Chinese from shootin' us and that half-leopard from hell has its claws locked into Juan's face, and Gilzean ain't got any idea why the hell we had exotic cats in our crate instead of our street rock. It was a mess!"

"Who the hell is buying domesticated exotic cats in Gotham?" Belle asked, nearly choking as she laughed.

"I have no fuckin' clue but they sure got to party it up that night with _our_ shipment. I'm sure they were seeing whatever damn cat they wanted."

After a couple hours of laughter and stories, they started to step up their drinking. Belle and Oswald both looked to Gilzean with slightly confused expressions as he poured salt onto a small saucer in front of them.

"What's that look fo- wait, you two have never done tequila shots?"

They glanced over to each other before turning back to him. Oswald laughed nervously and shrugged, shaking his head. "N-Not really, I... don't really drink that often."

"Uh, the only thing I know about tequila is it.. makes your clothes come off?"

"Wait, isn't that a song?"

She turned to Oswald and snapped her fingers. "Yes! That's where that came from!"

"_Oi vey_," Juan muttered with an amused grin, patting Gilzean's shoulder. "go on, teach the kiddos how it's done."

"Geez- alright alright. First, you lick your hand right here." Licking the back of his hand, he reached down with the other to grab a pinch of salt. "Then you get your salt," he continued, sprinkling the salt on his now-wet hand, "and now your lime." With his licked hand, he held up a slice of lime and in the other hand, readied his tequila shot.

Again, Belle and Oswald exchanged glances. _Are we really gonna be expected to do this?_ he seemed to say, and she returned with a _I don't even know what's going on_ before snapping their attention back to the others.

"Listen guys- okay. You lick the salt, take the shot, then bite the lime."

The two of them watched with mutual curiosity as Gilzean demonstrated the procedure. Belle looked down to her tequila shot and readied it in her hand, stealing another glance at Oswald. They both licked their hands at the same time and sprinkled their salt - then downed the shot. She quickly bit down on the lime, seeing the salt still stuck to her hand and went to lick it off, her face contorting with the array of unpleasant flavors as the others burst out laughing. "I am confused and slightly disgusted," she whined playfully as Oswald just coughed it out.

"Oh god, h-how was that fun?!"

She turned to him but started giggling when she saw salt dabbled on his lips. "I don't even know what _you_ did!" Looking back, she held up her empty shot glass towards Gilzean. "Heeeey, we demand a redo!"

"What? No we don't!"

"Yes, Oz-sama, we must restore honor to our name!" She spoke with a fake Japanese accent as she waved the glass back and forth. "Come on, Gil, we'll get it right this time!"

Reluctantly, Oswald nudged his glass towards him as well. "Fine!"

The other three looked to each other before Gilzean shrugged and grabbed the bottle to refill their glasses. "Alright guys, one more but that's it! There's a reason songs are written about this shit!"

"Yeah yeah," she said dismissively before preparing the salt on her hand again, "okay, so salt, shot, lime. Got it? Salt first!"

"I'll do it perfectly," Oswald said with a slight grimace, "if that means I never have to do it again."

"Never _ever_," she promised, and they both licked the salt from their hands before throwing back their shots.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and left the restroom, her stomach feeling very much relieved and... well, emptied. Opposite her, Oswald stumbled out from the men's room, the color already returning to his face. "Oh god," she started laughing as he walked over to her, "we- we're like college freshmen."

"Only you would continue to laugh," he said, though he couldn't help a chuckle from escaping, "after, after puking your lungs out. F-f-fuck tequila."

His slight slur made her snort and she grabbed at the sides of his shoulders to maintain her balance. She suddenly stopped giggling and looked up into his eyes with as serious a face as she could muster, though her lips began to quiver as they held back a smile. "Oz, I... I think we're drunk." He stared back at her for a moment before both of them broke into chuckles, and she suddenly rested her head against his shoulder. "Why is everything so funny?"

His laughing quickly faded, heat rising in his cheeks as her body gently pressed against him. His hands became fidgety as they hovered over her shoulders, unsure of what to do. "Hey, uh, we should- we should get back to the others, they're p-probably wondering um, where we are."

"Good... good idea!" With another breath, she straightened up and nodded. "I think I'm ready for more drinking." They exchanged smiles before turning to face the dense crowd, and as Oswald took the lead and entered the fray, she reached out and grabbed his hand; because she was following behind him, she didn't notice how red his face had become.

* * *

"_Chug! Chug! Chug!_"

Their little table had amassed somewhat of a crowd as Belle held the tall glass up against her lips, steadily downing the bar's special drink. A spin off the Irish Car Bomb, this was called the Gotham Car Bomb; instead of a shot of Irish creme and whiskey dumped in a glass of beer, it was dumped in a haphazard concoction of beer, rum, and wine. It was one of the most horrible things she'd ever slightly tasted, but if she stopped drinking, the cream would curdle and she'd have a very disappointed crowd. Out of breath but victorious, she slammed the empty glass on the table with her audience cheering.

"Holy shit," Tiu laughed as he threw his finger up to point to Gilzean, "you created a monster!"

"Hey, I only, only... cultivated and uh, watered this little flower b-but the bloom was always there. I only unleashed it!"

Turning around to face him, Belle narrowed her eyes. "D-Did you just call me vege- vegetarian - no, shit, uh... vegetation?"

Hearing a snort on her other side, she looked to see Oswald failing to hold back his laughter. "Belle do you even, do you even hear yourself right now?"

"There's... isn't.. anything wrong with my hearing."

They all stood outside by the street, laughing and getting out the last of their slurred conversation as they waited for the cabs to arrive. Splitting into two cabs, they nodded their goodbyes and the fun party buzz somehow dwindled into Belle stumbling into her dark apartment at 4:52 am and collapsing onto her bed after a quick change of clothes.

* * *

While she didn't feel any better, Belle at least looked cleaned and presentable when she and Agent McCall went up the metal staircase to a rusted and deteriorating packaging plant. After scanning his ID card, the inside doors unlocked and they walked into a room full of high-tech computers and suited agents swarming about. This was the FBI's hive in Gotham, the headquarters for local federal covert operations. At the moment, Belle was running the only main case while a few others ran smaller, short-term missions. Since bringing down Falcone and the other major crime families was their biggest objective, Belle had been given her own stretch of wall to construct an elaborate and detailed collage on top of a thorough map of the city. It had been a couple weeks since she'd been able to come in to her physical office, and so her little art project was in good need of an update - especially for Fish Mooney's gang.

As the others looked up and noticed her, they stopped and whispered to each other and jumped up. "Agent Spicer!" one of them shouted excitedly, rushing over with an open box of doughnuts. "Long time, no see!"

She put on her best smile and took a doughnut with a quick _thank you_. McCall took one as well and motioned to the others. "Round everyone up for an updated briefing in about half an hour. Spicer's gonna give the captain a verbal, and sounds like we've got a lot of new intel coming in."

"So Falcone's got you scouting on Mooney's operations."

"Yes, sir." She spoke before taking another bite of her doughnut. For some reason it tasted a thousand times better than anything she'd ever eaten in her life, and was nearly brought to tears by gratitude for having been given one. Probably another aspect of her massive hangover, so she did her best to cover it up with professionalism.

"You were pretty extensive in your last report about his distrust."

"Mmm, yes-" she nodded, quickly finishing her bite so she could speak, "he's always been a little wary of her, I mean this woman is a firecracker. She gets results but she goes all out, no holds barred. She does it her way, often brash and brutal and about as subtle as hitting someone in the face with a brick. I'm not sure how much of the politics she really grasps, however, and I think that's what makes Falcone nervous. He knows when to back off, or hold his ground, or retreat. I think she perceives that as weakness."

"And your run-in with the Yakuza," her captain stated with a raised brow, "how did that go?"

"Swimmingly," she murmured, nibbling on her last bite. "They don't seem to have much power, and they know it. By letting me go, they hoped to establish a connection for Mooney's resources, which I am very thankful for, let me tell ya."

After hashing out all the details of her new position as Mooney's soldier, the captain compiled his notes and prepared to give the other agents the case update. Before leaving, however, he handed a relatively thin case file to Belle.

"A bit of light reading, sir?" She joked, curiously thumbing it open and flipping through stills of security footage and personal files of what looked like common street thugs.

"Quick and easy drug bust," he said, catching McCall's attention from the other side of the room as they left his office, "shouldn't be anything too difficult."

"A drug bust? Should one of the other agents be handling these cases?"

"Well, normally yes. But this has ties to Falcone. Close ties. It could get messy."

"So much for quick and easy, then?"

He laughed, as McCall approached and joined into the conversation. "McCall, Spicer, listen closely. There's a deal going down tonight between a couple of neighborhood gangs, which wouldn't have raised any flags with us until intel discovered a couple less-than-honorable cops were tipped off about it a couple days ago. The drugs came from Falcone's supplier, and we believe he's the one who tipped off the officers."

"So it's not about the gangs at all, it's a drug deal between Falcone and the cops."

"Exactly. From your reports, we know he finds some way to persuade the police to keep his shipments off the books. We think this is how he's paying them to keep quiet."

"And... you want me to intercept them?"

"Make sure you get the drugs before the cops arrive."

McCall glanced between the other two, his brow furrowing. "What good will that do, in the long run?"

"If the cops don't get the drugs, they won't help with Falcone's shipment..." Belle's gaze shifted to the side as she thought. "Won't they just reschedule? I mean it would be obvious that someone interfered with the transaction."

"You snatch the goods, Spicer, cause some disorderly conduct between the gangs. They start shootin', the cops pull up and have to arrest them. It goes on the books as a gang fight, and the officers are out of their drugs. They'll contact Falcone, and now that we know his style, we know he'll send someone discreet to make sure the dirty cops check out. We've got an agent in the police department, they'll plant the drugs you swiped in the officers' locker for Falcone's guy to find."

Her eyes lit up once she saw the rest of the picture. "And thus breaking apart the trust between Falcone and the corrupted police."

"You only have to nudge a single domino to make the rest crumble. Maybe this is our domino."

Trying to cover up her excitement with a sigh, she excused herself from her captain and turned to leave with McCall at her side. "You know, after making a couple teens shoot at each other tonight, we should totally hit up a club."

"_Ha ha_," her partner fake-laughed, opening the door and holding it for her, "I think you've had enough to drink for a long while."

* * *

**author's note:**

**again, I have been overwhelmed with your responses and love! thank you guys so much, I really do appreciate it! ;-; and hopefully this chapter was entertaining, it was a lot of fun trying to imagine all my Gotham babies gettin' drunk. There were like a million different ideas I had for that scene... xD but maybe I'll have another club scene later on and will use my other ideas then. Trying to imagine a drunk Oswald was like the highlight of my weekend... but I wanted to finish this chapter in time for the new Gotham episode! So happy Gotham day everyone! C: and thank you all again for all your love and support!**

* * *

**Next chapter...** _"Glass Cannon"_

"Get outta here," the male replied dismissively after a groan, lowering his gun. Before he could react, an arm reached around his neck and jerked him backwards. He flailed his arms before struggling to reach back, though his blood flow was quickly cut off as Belle's arm squeezed against his jugular. Oswald took that as his cue and spun the bottle around in his hand to grip the neck of it like a baseball bat, and brought it crashing against the side of the gunman's head.


	5. Glass Cannon

**UNBOUND**  
_Chapter 5: Glass Cannon_

* * *

The drug bust had surprisingly gone according to plan. Undercover agent Isabelle Spicer was able to intercept the dealers before they reached the rendezvous point, swipe the goods, and leave the two opposing gangs to stare at each other with no idea of what was going on. Words were thrown around and eventually guns came out, and magically the police appeared right on cue - however, instead of the drugs they were counting on, they found only a handful of amateur thugs with pricey fire power. Afterwards, she was contacted by another agent who gave her a drop location, and the package was passed over to someone working within the GCPD who would then plant the drugs within the officers' personal lockers for Falcone's informants to find.

If she could drive enough tension and distrust between Falcone and the corrupt police, it would be one hell of a step closer to taking down the infected political system that ran Gotham City. Falcone was a glass cannon - as powerful and influential as he may be, he could break like anyone else. And it was only a matter of time before he was broken.

* * *

It seemed like Belle had merely blinked and two weeks had rushed right on by. Working for Fish Mooney was inexplicably effortless, and she couldn't help but admire the beautifully vicious crime boss. Whether she was serving as a waitress during the nightclub's regular hours, or serving as a soldier in Mooney's crew, every day was exciting and lavish. There was a certain romanticism to working at Mooney's, and while actively reminding herself she was merely playing a role, the undercover agent couldn't help but feel just a little bit more lively than usual. Since the other servers were only employees of the club and not a part of the crew, she would often have to switch shifts with a coworker in order to discreetly take a baseball bat to someone's mailbox or track down some sleazy money launderer to liquidate some stolen goods. Her evenings were filled with serving delicious food to upper-middle-class citizens and delivering nasty blows to the face of whoever owed Mooney the most money.

Then, she had to report to Falcone on Mooney's movements and decisions - though she found herself leaving out small details here and there, if she thought they might particularly upset him. She somehow felt a fierce loyalty to her new boss, and despite having come to her under the condition of reporting her operations to Falcone, she couldn't bring herself to include anything she knew he wouldn't like. But she gave just enough detail to keep him happy. And of course, she also wrote weekly reports for her case handler, Agent McCall, including all of the activities and transactions - illegal and otherwise - that she'd participated in or known about, as well as any collected intel - new contacts, expanding territories, that sort of thing. McCall would give the reports to their captain, who would then brief the other handful of agents about any updates so they could continue to monitor bugs, surveillance, etc.

This didn't leave Belle with much free time, but it didn't matter - she felt like she was on top of the world. Ever since her welcoming party, Mooney's crew had opened up to her and made her feel like she was part of the family. She'd even declined a couple of proposed meets with McCall to hang with the boys instead. _It's all part of the role_, she told herself. She was merely settling into character.

They all crowded around a small fold-up table in the break lounge, shuffling cards and arranging small stacks of plastic chips for a round of Texas Hold 'Em.

"You get any new numbers tonight, _chiquita_?" Juan joked, grinning at Belle as he passed out cards to everyone.

With a dismissive groan, she peeked at her cards for a moment, leaving them face down in front of her. "Ugh, none that I plan on calling any time soon."

"Oh? So how many then?"

"Why?"

"Tiu and I have a be-" he stopped as he was roughly elbowed in the ribs by his friend, "err, kidding. It's just funny."

She raised a brow as she flicked a chip into the center of the table. "Funny? How is that funny?"

"The way you react is funny," Gilzean chimed in with a smirk, throwing his starting chip in, "how you casually blow off anyone who looks your way."

"Hey," she responded with a defensive huff, "most of the guys flirting with me are here with dates and girlfriends, it's awkward as hell. And even if they aren't, it's not like I ask for their number, it's just given to me." With an exaggerated shudder, she added, "I feel so violated."

"Aww, don't take it like that, Belles," Tiu quietly grunted as he leaned forward to reveal the three initially face-down cards - _the flop_ \- and waved his arm towards her, "you're pretty, you look interesting, you have a cool job, guys are just wantin' to know you."

"Yeah I _know_ what they wanna _do_," she muttered as she gently rapped her knuckle against the table to skip betting.

"And what, that's a bad thing?" Juan asked, tapping his own knuckle to pass.

"Well... no, I... guess not. I'm just not lo-"

"_Two chips~_" Oswald piped in with a sly grin spreading across his face as he tossed two of his chips into the pile. The rest of the group replied with an orchestra of groans.

"Shit, I'm out."

"Yeah, I fold."

Juan and Gilzean both pushed their cards aside with a heavy sigh.

"What? You guys always fold when he raises a bet."

"Yeah, it means the little shit has something good."

Belle watched him closely, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized his behavior and body language like some strange analyzing computer. She could always tell when Oswald thought he had a decent hand, he always made this subtle little half-smirk before sitting back and watching the others for their reactions. He hadn't done that this time around, and in fact, he hadn't had much of a reaction at all until just now. Was he just messing with them? No, he would have been able to come across more convincingly. Or... did he do it to distract the others from that increasingly uncomfortable conversation?

"Or he could have crap," she spat playfully, deciding to play along with his game.

"So what'll it be then?" He leaned forward, his crystal eyes locking with hers. "Gonna call it?"

Without breaking their eye contact, she reached down and grabbed three of her chips, dropping them one at a time into the pile. "_Ante_ up."

"Damn, guys. I hate betting on the first round." Tiu pushed his cards away, leaving only Belle and Oswald in the game.

The two were unable to continue their overly dramatic face-off when the break-room's door suddenly swung open and a none-too-pleased Fish Mooney rushed in. Her eyes were ice cold, her jaws clenched, her posture stiff. Instinctively, the three brutes quickly stood up to join her.

"What's going on...?" Belle asked with rising concern.

Mooney looked from her to the boys before pursing her lips together. "There's been a kidnapping." An instant, palpable tension filled the air as everyone else exchanged glances, waiting for more information - but no additional comment was given. Gilzean finally gave a firm nod to Mooney, but before they could move out, Belle shot up from her chair.

"Wait! Miss Mooney, I... I mean no disrespect but..." her lips remained parted as she struggled to find the right words to convey her opinion without stepping on anyone's toes, "uh.. well, a kidnapping is a serious and delicate matter, it's... not exactly, um, something to solve with strong-arming. Don't you have any more information?"

The crime boss zoned in on Belle, narrowing her eyes and standing up as straight as she could; the reaction of a challenged alpha. Belle had perhaps come off too strongly, but in this case she felt it was worth it. After all, if Mooney was this upset over it, the hostage must have great significance to her in one way or the other. "A high-school boy," she finally spoke, as if deciding to humor her with details, "was snatched right off the street walking home today. They want a ransom, or the boy dies."

Belle still wasn't sure why Mooney was so particularly tense, but she saw a golden opportunity to take the lead and earn some major cred - and of course to save a valuable life. "So what do you think these 'nappers are gonna do when they see a few guys coming after them? Whether this was done as a message or for money, they'll cut the rope if they think they're about to lose."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Each word was slowly enunciated in a sharp, venomous tone.

"Well, I..." She quickly scanned her brain for any relevant knowledge; four years earning a criminology degree, three years in FBI training, one year of experience in the field - there had to be something. A piece of advice from an instructor, a conversation between professors, an excerpt from a textbook, a page of notes, any information that seemed so trivial at the time but was suddenly so very vital. "Taking back a hostage requires a tactical approach, you've gotta outsmart the kidnappers and stay three steps ahead of them at all times. As long as they have something important to you, they have control of the situation, and if they become afraid of losing that control, they typically won't hesitate to pull the trigger on the hostage."

"Oh, well in that case let's _call the goddamn FBI_."

"I..." It was almost physically painful for Belle not to reveal the irony of that statement. "I can do it. Find them, find the kid." Her eyes widened slightly at Mooney's crushing leer and she quickly tried to back herself up. "I, I mean, wh-when I worked for Falcone, we did a couple ransom gigs, you know? So I know the general process, all the rules and cheats- I'll know what to look for, I mean-"

"You?" With a slow breath, Mooney's eyes flickered to the side; she was losing the last of her patience. "Belle, I like you but if you mess this up-"

"I won't, ma'am," she said with as much false confidence as she could muster, "but either way, I'm your best shot."

"And you're doing all this alone~?" she asked, her eyes rolling all the way back to Belle.

"Y-" she started to answer but froze; Mooney had made a valid point. This wasn't exactly a one-man operation, but what was she gonna do, go and mysteriously employ the help of an FBI agent? She and McCall could surely crack apart something like this with relative ease, especially since he'd had a couple years of experience on her. He probably knew the most effective way of handling things, but unfortunately she couldn't rely on his partnership. For this one, she was on her own- **wait**. An idea suddenly surfaced, and Belle's gaze slowly made its way over to Oswald, who had been silently watching from the sidelines. _Maybe it was time to put the benched player into the game._ "Oz will go with me."

"Wh-what?"

She couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt for pulling him into the lion's den when she saw his expression. The poor guy looked like a deer in the headlights, completely caught off-guard, and rightfully so. But she knew he was much more clever than the others realized, maybe even more than he himself realized, and he was remarkably perceptive. Plus, his participation would give her the cover she needed to be able to use government resources.

"Osw- _that's_ your plan?"

"Fish, I wouldn't intervene like this if I didn't- ... look, I know how they'll be thinking. That means I can plan ahead of them, that I can beat them. You know I'm right. I promise you, I'll bring the kid back alive."

It felt as if Mooney were glaring straight into Belle's soul, her jaw set as she reeled over the decision. After a moment, she sighed and gave a slow nod. Belle glanced over her shoulder to her new partner as he sheepishly stood and followed her. As they passed Mooney, those perfectly manicured fingernails lashed out and wrapped around Belle's upper arm, pulling her close as Mooney leaned over. "This is Falcone's nephew," she uttered in a low staccato, and the full weight of her tension was finally dumped onto the younger female's shoulders. She now understood the situation. If this didn't turn out well, they'd all be on the chopping block.

"Yes ma'am," she replied quietly as Mooney released her grip, and caught up with Oswald who waited just outside the door. This was going to be _fun_.

* * *

"S-So..." Oswald laughed nervously, following after Belle as they crossed the street to a public parking garage where she kept her car parked, "you have a plan, then, right?"

She looked over to him for a moment, overcome with the urge to just hug him and giggle profusely at his nervousness - this must be what it was like for agents to take rookies out for their first case. "Well... sort of."

What little color he held in his face seemed to wash away. "Sort- _Sort_ of?!"

Taking a deep breath, she spun around to face him while continuing to walk backwards. "Relax, I'll figure something out- err, _we_ will."

"With... all due respect, Belle, I..." he was becoming fidgety, pursing his lips before smiling for just a moment, "I mean, are you sure this isn't... maybe above our heads? I've never even-"

"Hey hey!" She threw up a hand defensively. "You're doing that thing again, where you psyche yourself out. Look, I said I didn't have a plan but I do have resources. Besides... this is our chance, Oz! To show them we can handle ourselves, be reliable and competent, to impress them. We get to be the heroes, right?"

"You... really think you can do this?"

"I think we can, if we work together~ after all, I didn't choose you for no reason. I need tactical support, and you're the only one smart enough to handle that kind of thing." Reaching into her messenger bag, she fished out her keys and approached her small silver car.

Oswald grew quiet as he rounded the car to hover at the passenger door, a soft and calm smile replacing his nervous one. "Well... maybe it is a good opportunity. Say, what did Mooney... tell you before we left?"

After unlocking the car, she swung the door open and clicked the button on the inside handle to unlock the other doors. "The kid that got taken," she quietly cleared her throat as they both got into their seats, "is Falcone's nephew."

Her words hit him like a sack of bricks as he fumbled with his seat belt. "F-Falcone's- oh, well. Great. So, we mess this up and we're dead."

"Relaaax~" she repeated, "I mean we could always run to Oklahoma. Start a farm, grow marijuana or something... do they have a mafia in Oklahoma? Do they even have _cities_ in Oklahoma...?" Belle was momentarily disturbed by her lack of knowledge about an entire state as she pulled out of the parking garage. Noticing Oswald's increasingly nervous behavior, she sighed. "Hey, seriously though, we've got this. I just need to make a call."

As she drove out onto the streets, she pulled her cell from her pocket and flipped it open, her thumb dancing across the keypad as she punched in a string of numbers before raising the phone to her ear. A moment later, McCall's voice hastily greeted her from the other side of the line. "Hey, Jackson!" - the name she used to let him know her cover was active - "Listen, we've got a situation. Falcone's nephew was kidnapped earlier today, picked up near Gotham High after school let out... yeah... Johnny Viti... wait, seriously? Yeah, fax everything you got, I'll be at my place soon... let me know what else you find!"

Oswald curiously eyed her as she hung up and slipped her phone into the center console. "That... one of your resources?"

"Yeah, Jackson has connections to the government," she explained, surprised at how truthful she was able to spin that, "and he's running information through the federal database now. Said there's been a couple citizen reports the past few days, a couple of strange men in a dark car looming outside the school. Every day for the past week, but the police never got around to looking into it."

"Those must be the kidnappers! But... how are we gonna find them? We don't know anything about them."

"You'd be surprised how much you can figure out for yourself. That's why he's sending me the reports, there may be some gold piece of information somewhere." Her fingers drummed against the leather steering wheel as they stopped at a red light. "Hey Oz, do you happen to know of a gardening store nearby?"

"A-Already planning our new life of farming?" He asked with an uneasy voice as he gazed out the window.

"I just need to pick up a few things." It was hard for her to watch him work himself up, but she couldn't just blurt out '_calm down, I'm a trained professional_'. In fact, she hadn't really come up with a solid excuse as to how she would know about the things she was about to do... so instead of running her mouth about some elaborate backstory, she would just do it.

"There's... one just two blocks from here. Make a left at the light, it's got a bright green awning."

* * *

They had almost reached Belle's apartment complex when she suddenly pulled up in front of a small family-owned pharmacy. Glancing between her and the backseat full of plastic bags from the gardening store, Oswald laughed uneasily. "D-Do we really have time for this? I mean, shouldn't we be focused?"

"Of course! I'll just be a sec, keep the car running!" Jumping out, she shut the door and nearly skipped into the pharmacy. It filled her with excitement to plan out what they would need to do, but she still felt guilty for leaving her partner in the dark. But that would resolve itself soon enough, when he'd see first-hand she was on a whole different level of criminal activity. After making her purchases, she returned to the car and gently added her bag to the rest in the backseat. "See? I wasn't long, and my place is just up ahead."

He nodded, but still looked like he was sick to his stomach.

She pulled into the small lot for the apartment complex and parked in front of her building. As they got out, she grabbed her bags from the back and danced up the steps to the third floor with Oswald following behind. Unlocking her door, she fluttered into the dark and empty apartment, flicking on the lights as she crossed the open living room and went into the kitchen where she set everything down. He shuffled in behind her, looking around the room. There was a small, comfortably worn red couch facing a large flat-screen television and a cherrywood desk with a duel-monitor computer in the corner. On the walls, where one might expect a photo or painting to hang, were sheets of normal white printer paper with quickly-doodled versions of famous artworks - an oddity that caught him off guard and made him smile.

"You've got impeccable taste in art," he said playfully as he joined her in the kitchen, trying not to nag her about priorities as she pulled a half-gallon of milk out of her pharmacy bag and put it in the fridge.

"What? Oh! Yeah, haha, thanks... those are just temporary, until I manage to get the real deal!" Kneeling down, she opened a lower cabinet and fished out her coffee grinder, setting it on the counter and plugging it in. "But please, make yourself at home. Uh, hungry? Or thirsty?"

"Oh, that's very kind but no thank you. I think we should try and-" Oswald abruptly fell silent, his mouth agape, his brow slowly furrowing with realization as he watched Belle empty the rest of the bags onto the counter. Fertilizer, strange unmarked powders, coils of wire... "-Belle are... are you making a bomb?!"

"What? No, it's... well... _eh_. Kind of, I guess." Running over to her desk area, she pulled out a box of envelopes and returned to the kitchen to grab tape, scissors, and a box of aluminum foil from a drawer. "Like I said earlier, these kinds of operations require more tactical approaches. The best plan is the one that no one will see coming." Cutting an envelope down to half size and re-taping the opened edges, she let out a sudden laugh. "It's funny, because these are flash grenades~ so they... literally _won't see_."

What came from Oswald could only be described as a half laugh, half whimper, and he made no moves to get any closer; though as he watched, he couldn't help but begin to feel slightly mesmerized.

Folding up a small sheet of foil, she carefully fed it through the coffee grinder along with a few packets of ingredients from the pharmacy. With the crackling hum of the grinder, she was left with a clump of powdered metals and minerals, and using a measuring spoon scooped them out and into the half-sized envelopes before sliding in a fuse cut from wire and sealing them up.

"So that... that's a flash grenade?"

"Mhm! This should be enough... I can't see needing more than one, but this way we'll have a back up." Moving to the fridge, she pulled out a can of Wild Cherry Pepsi and popped it open, walking back over to her desk. "Now let's see what our reports say..." Reaching for the face-down papers fresh out of her fax/printer, she flipped them over and started to scan through them.

"Anything useful?" he asked, scuttling closer to look over her shoulder.

"I... don't know yet," she said, tilting her head a bit as she read through, "but it definitely sounds like these are our guys. They must have been watching the school and maybe even Johnny all week. They knew the schedule, the traffic flow, where the teachers would be... they definitely did their homework."

"You're uh, on a role with puns tonight," he joked, though he couldn't suppress his laughter when she gave him a confused look before suddenly realizing what she'd said.

"They're unintentional, I swear!" With a sigh, she continued to thumb through the rest of the reports. "But it looks like that's the gist of it. Oh, in this one, a student managed to snap a picture on her phone... it's kind of blurry though, and I can't make out any identifiable characteristics..."

"Would you mind if I looked at that?"

"Oh, of course!" Handing him the paper with the included photo, she grinned. "Remember, we're partners on this. You don't have to ask. Actually you can look at all the reports, I've got more goods to bake~" Sipping on her soda, she went back to her assortment of questionable products on the counter. Pulling out a gallon-sized ziploc bag, she grabbed a large packet of reddish powder and cut it open, pouring it into the bag. Taking the rest of the powdered aluminum mixture, she added it to the bag, sealed it up, and gently shook it around to get it all mixed together.

"What's that for?"

"This, my dear Oz, is thermite - it'll turn nearly any surface into melted butter. We don't know if these guys are holding out in a residency or shacked up behind stainless steel reinforced doors, so this stuff will get us through whatever kind of-" Her phone suddenly began to ring from her pocket, and she quickly pulled it out and saw it was McCall. "Jackson!" she answered, putting him on speakerphone and setting the phone on the counter so she could continue with her thermite concoction. "You're on speaker," she casually warned, "so what did you find?"

"You get the reports?"

"Yeah, we were just skimming through 'em." She paused to take a long drink of her soda. "Did you dig anything else up?"

"Traffic light camera caught the suspect's car, clear enough to make out the plate. Ran it and got an unlisted number, no name or anything except for a single credit card transaction. Rental of a storage unit, first thing this morning."

"That must be where they're held up."

Emptying the rest of her soda, she set the can down and grabbed a funnel from the cabinet above her, using it to pour the thermite powder into the can. Feeding a wire fuse through a straw, she stuck it down into the can and duct taped the top to seal it as best as she could.

"I'll text you the address, but it looks like the storage facility is out near the industrial warehouses. Looks grimy, be safe."

"Sure thing." She clicked a button and ended the call, then gave Oswald a grin. "See? We have an address."

He returned her grin, before letting out a soft laugh. "We.. have an address."

"Told you we could do this! There was no need to get jittery, right? Now, all that's left is the fun part." A low grumble croaked out from her stomach and her shoulders slumped. "But first, I'm starving. You sure you aren't hungry?"

"No, I- ..." Oswald stopped himself, taking a moment to settle his nerves. It was difficult to read her most of the time, and he'd become unsettled by her casual and even silly behavior in the midst of such a serious situation. But she had connections to the FBI and knowledge of homemade explosives and had managed to piece together a plan of action from almost nothing. She'd already demonstrated her general competence during her two weeks at Mooney's, and had come from Falcone with high praise - she must have been doing _something_ right. Perhaps he had no reason to worry after all, and decided to push away his doubts. Worst case scenario, they moved to Oklahoma. "Actually, I am getting kind of hungry."

* * *

An ominous darkness had settled over the city of Gotham, its towering buildings now casting deep shadows. Belle's car slowly crawled to a halt about a block away from the storage facility, and after a moment its idle hum died down into silence. She and Oswald quietly left the car and she made sure to lock it before they strolled down towards the facility. As they passed a small pub, she spotted an empty beer bottle laying against the corner and picked it up, gently brushing off the dirt with her hand.

"What's that for?" Oswald asked, trying not to look disgusted.

"We may need an excuse for snooping around," she answered, holding the bottle in one hand as her other arm wrapped around his, pulling them closer together. "So in case we're spotted, we're just a drunk couple trying to stumble on home."

His cheeks reddening, his gaze quickly flickered to the side as he tried not to think about her gentle touch. He knew very little of such affection, and it stung like a sharp jab to his gut how much he was affected by such a casual gesture, something that she most likely thought nothing of.

Reaching the facility's front, they rounded the corner and made their way towards the rows of storage units with slow, quiet, calculated footsteps. With every passing row, they would survey their surroundings. When it was deemed clear, they proceeded to the next clump of shadows, though the sound of another's footsteps made Belle pull him extra quickly into cover. Carefully peeking around the corner, she saw a man on patrol, complete with an MP7 submachine gun in his hands as he kept watch. With an automatic weapon, he was no storage security - it was the piece of confirmation she was looking for. This was the place... but unfortunately, there was still some narrowing down to do.

Turning to Oswald, she handed him the beer bottle. "Listen carefully," she spoke just above a whisper, "take this and stumble over to that guard."

His eyes glanced down to the bottle before returning to her, and his hands reeled back, as if touching it would be a death sentence. "What? Me? H-He's got a _gun_."

"Shh, he's not just gonna open fire on you. Remember that night at My Alibi, when we got pretty hammered and fell all over the place like giggling idiots? That's all you have to do. Just bug him, distract him... just for a moment."

"I... I don't know..."

"You'll be great," she said with a confident grin, reaching out to loosen and mess with his tie before tugging at the lapels of his jacket to make them more askew, "trust me, it's strangely fun. I'll do the hard part, then you knock him unconscious."

"Wait, you want me to-"

"I'll make it super easy! This is newbie-level stuff. Don't sweat it, okay?"

He slowly exhaled before nodding and taking the bottle from her. "And if I get shot?"

"Then I'll pay like, half the medical bills, promise."

Pressing his tongue against his cheek, he thought for a moment before nodding and rounding the corner, stepping into the dim illumination of moonlight. The armed man quickly turned to face a swaying Oswald, who grinned and snickered to himself as he walked unevenly down the aisle of units.

"Hey, you! What are you doing here?!"

His shoulders bounched, teeth clenching as Oswald tried to muffle his chuckles. Waving his bottle around, he continued to approach the gunman. "Wh-what am I doing here? Pfft- what's _anyone_ doing here? Place is a, uh... a trash heap... so dirty, god, when did it become so dirty out here?"

"Get outta here," the male replied dismissively after a groan, lowering his gun. Before he could react, an arm reached around his neck and jerked him backwards. He flailed his arms before struggling to reach back, though his blood flow was quickly cut off as Belle's arm squeezed against his jugular. Oswald took that as his cue and spun the bottle around in his hand to grip the neck of it like a baseball bat, and brought it crashing against the side of the gunman's head. His body quickly fell limp, and Belle lowered him to the concrete as slowly as she could before smiling up to her partner, but it soon faded when she saw his expression. His lip quivered ever so slightly with a dark excitement, his eyes drinking in his results, his muscles calm, his breathing slow and nearly silent... His typical personality was such a contrast to this predator before her, and when those animalistic eyes flickered up to meet hers, her stomach fluttered with a rush of her own_dark excitement_.

* * *

The gunman's wrists were tightly fastened together with a plastic zip-tie, the first thing he noticed when he came to. His vision was still burred and his head was pounding, the plastic cutting into his skin as he struggled to tug his hands apart.

"Easy there~" Belle cooed, grabbing him by the shoulders to sit him up against the cold wall and kneeling in front of him. "We just want to ask you a few questions."

"Fuck off," he muttered before spitting at the ground.

"Hey now, that's not necessary. Besides," she held up his SMG, inspecting it for a moment before playfully aiming it at his face, "if you play nice, we won't have to make a mess."

He flinched under the gun's aim. "W-watch it, bitch, that thing's loaded!"

"I know! It's a beautiful piece. The trigger spring was a little loose, I fixed that for ya. Makes the trigger a bit more... _sensitive._" As she spoke, her index finger slowly caressed the trigger, and he began to squirm and fidget.

"Alright alright! What the fuck do you want?!"

"Just the kid."

"_Shit_, you one of Falcone's, then?!"

"Not exactly," she said, tilting her head to the side as she glanced up to Oswald, who stood quietly behind her, watching with intense interest. "I'm just... hired help. And him? Ha... well, let's just say he's pretty good with a blade. But time's ticking, dear~ tell us where to find the boy and we'll be on our merry little way."

He sneered, leaning forward as much as he could. "Cut me loose and I'll show you what _I'm_ good with."

As his jaws parted to laugh, she suddenly shoved the tip of the gun in between his teeth. He immediately stopped and froze, helpless as she pushed the gun into his mouth. "Tsk tsk, I told you... play nice and we won't have problems. You keep being hostile, and..." Slowly she turned the gun, so that it began to push out against his cheek. "Well, I guarantee the first few holes won't kill you."

His lips stretched and moved around the gun as he tried to muffle out a panicked answer, and she withdrew the gun. "Fifty-four! Th-they're in fifty-four!"

"They?"

"T- ... two guys, and the kid..."

"Armed?"

"Yeah, n-nothin' too fancy though!"

"Alright then. See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Reaching out the pat his cheek, she grinned before standing up. Using the bottom of her shirt, she wiped off the end of the gun and turned to Oswald. He watched her with widened, fascinated eyes, and again her stomach fluttered. "Okay... Unit fifty-four..." Suddenly feeling embarrassed, she quickly turned her head and began walking, and he followed after her. Flipping out her phone again, she dialed McCall's number and held it to her ear. "Jackson, yeah... We got it. Bring the clean-up crew, I left you a present... no, alive... but there's two to go. If someone goes down... yeah... got it." She wasn't sure if these two men would be so cooperative, and if a mess was made, the FBI needed to be there before the Gotham PD. Besides, the captured gunman may have some valuable intel on his clients that he could provide in exchange for a plea bargain; no doubt his prints would come up with a match on some unsolved crime.

As they approached the unit, she stopped and handed Oswald the MP7. "Here, hold onto this. You may end up needing it." He nodded and took it, and she reached into her bag to carefully pull out the thermite-packed soda can and a roll of duct tape. Kneeling down, she quietly taped the can against the door of the unit, then stood up as she pulled out a lighter. "You wanna do the honors?"

His face lit up like a child on Christmas, though he quickly afterwards tried to hide his utter excitement. "Yeah! Uh- yeah... m-may I? I just... light it?" He took the lighter from her and anxiously flicked on its flame, holding it against the fuse. After a moment it lit, and he backed up to stand next to her. As the light drifted down into the can, there was suddenly a bright _pop_ followed by an even brighter and louder _bang_. It was sure to catch the immediate attention of anyone and everyone inside.

The next thing they knew, there was a large hole in the wall and Belle quickly stepped forward, lighting up the enveloped flash powder and tossing it through. There was another small pop and a bright fizzling flash of light. With a quick _"you stay out here"_, she pulled out her own gun and kicked through the door, charging in. The two men were yelling to each other as they squinted and haphazardly pointed their guns, and before their vision returned she flew by and cracked one in the head with her pistol before spinning on her heel to send her boot up and against the other's face. Bodies and guns clammored to the floor and as the smoke began to thin out, she saw Johnny standing ahead of her with a bewildered look.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Don't worry," she said, "I work with your uncle, I- ..." Her voice trailed off as something struck her as being... off. The boy seemed angry more than anything, and he wasn't restrained or injured in the slightest. He only glared at her before glancing over to the other men.

"Fuckin' _useless_ idiots! You said this place was secure!"

_Shit, this isn't good_, she thought, her mind racing as it tried to catch up and reanalyze the situation. Stumbling back a step, her spidey senses tingled and she spun to the side to avoid the butt of a semi-automatic against her head. While his guard was down, she rushed him, pulling his shoulders forward as her knee collided up against his gut, and the back of her elbow against his skull. He dropped quickly but strong arms wrapped around her and threw her hard against the ground, her gun clattering away from her reach as she kicked and headbutted her way back to dominance. Managing to pin the guy, she kneed him several times in the ribs but he simply tossed her off like she was weightless; before she could get up, he was over top of her, straddling her so she couldn't squirm away. Large, rough hands clenched around her neck and she couldn't breathe - after a moment of clawing at his solid grip, her arm reached out to try and snag her gun, but it lay helplessly away from her outstretched fingers. Wiggling her hips, she felt like she could get a leg free, or work out enough room to knee him in the groin, and continued to scratch and pull at his hands. But before she could make any progress or come up with a new plan, one of his hands tightened around her neck, nearly crushing her windpipe completely as the other moved to the side of his hip. As soon as she saw the metal of his gun, adrenaline surged through her body. She squirmed and struggled frantically, flailing any part of her body that could move, her fingernails digging into the back of his hand as her lungs twitched in their desperate need for air. His other hand, armed with his own pistol, seemed to move in slow-motion up towards her. Every molecule in her body wanted to fight, to move, to scream and bite... but she couldn't do anything. Her chest burned without the oxygen she needed, her lips beginning to tingle with numbness, and she felt the cold barrel of his gun press down against her forehead. She couldn't even whimper.

_**BANG.**_

The gunshot echoed loudly within the tight walls of the storage unit.

Air rushed into her lungs as the grip on her neck released, and she sat up to gasp and cough, her heart pounding in her ears as the man over her slumped lifelessly to the ground. A bloody, gaping hole just below his eye oozed and spurted warm blood and she looked up to see a white-faced Oswald standing just in the doorway. Hearing the click of another gun behind her, she suddenly flipped over, grabbing her gun from the floor and shooting the second man just as he aimed at Oswald, twice into the shoulder until he dropped for the final time.

Her body still heaving to consume air, she rose from the floor and turned her aim to Johnny, who took a step back and threw his hands up.

"Whoa!" Oswald quickly joined her side, lowering his gun now that both men were dead. "That's the kid!"

"He orchestrated... the whole thing," she spoke in between deep breaths, her voice still rough. "This wasn't a kidnapping."

"L-L-Look, I just needed the money, okay? My uncle's loaded, I just needed a couple grand, I thought he'd just pay the ransom and it would be over with!"

"With a solid plan like that, I'm surprised things went awry," Oswald cheeked, "but I wonder what your uncle will think."

"What? No! He, he can't find out! He'd kill me!"

Without looking away from the kid, Belle held her hand out toward Oswald. "Zip-ties." Pulling more from the inside of his suit jacket, he placed them in her hand and she put her gun away, walking forward and grabbing Johnny before tying his wrists together as tight as she could make them. "That's between you and him, now." Standing behind him, she pushed him forward and led him out of the room, passing Oswald as if he weren't even there. He took another glance around the room, wondering how she'd managed to get connections that caused the government to come clean up her personal messes, then left to catch up with them.

She'd already loaded him in the backseat of her car, slamming the door to muffle his constant begging and bargaining, when Oswald approached her.

"You were right, Belle! Heh, look at us... we actually did it!"

Her hand rested against the closed car door for a second as her eyes gazed aimlessly through the window. "Yeah..." she'd almost whispered, her face blank and expressionless as she turned to open the driver's door.

Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out to gently grab her arm. Once he did, his face flushed with heat, but he couldn't bare her stoicism and refusal to look at him. "Belle, are... are you okay?"

She stopped, but didn't make any efforts to face him. In fact, her head turned away from his direction before she finally spoke again. "Yes, I'm... fine. Let's just go."

He wasn't sure what to say, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. He knew she'd told him to stay outside the unit, and he had no qualms with that - in fact, he preferred to be way out of the line of flying bullets and she seemed to bloom in such violence. But when he heard the scuffle, and heard it continue, without a single time hearing her voice, he felt the sudden need to check on her. He couldn't even see her when he looked into the unit, just the back of the muscular male pinning her down, and the bottom of her boots as she kicked and squirmed. He wasn't even entirely sure how to shoot an MP7, but it seemed that he had decided to try at just the right moment. Who ever thought he'd be the one saving _her_ from a fight?

There was an awkward silence between them, Belle refusing to turn around and Oswald refusing to let go.

After a moment, she finally submitted to his persistence and slowly turned to him, though her eyes couldn't yet meet his. He started to ask her again but stopped as her brow twitched, her lip quivering. All at once the fear and panic seemed to wash over her, and she jumped forward, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck and her face burying into him. His eyes widened, but he quickly put his arms around her, feeling every tremble under his fingertips.

"Hey... it's okay," he mumbled weakly, wishing he had some clue as to what he should say, "I mean, that... couldn't have been your first close call, right?" There was no response from her, she just continued to cling to him like he was her lifeline. Her fingers tightened their grip on the collar of his jacket. "Sometimes..." he decided to try again, "it's okay to be reminded... that we're not invincible, you know? So we don't lose sight of the edge."

Slowly, her face lifted towards his, silent tears streaming down her cheeks as she wiped them away with the back of her hand. "I just... I thought I was better than that. Stronger... More careful..."

"But why would you be?" He asked, his lips twitching into a playful smirk. "When you've got me to patch you up?"

She watched him for a moment, her eyes gazing into his, taking in those beautiful sapphire hues. A soft chuckle suddenly bubbled out at his words, and the light returned in her eyes. Again her hand wiped away fresh tears as she continued to laugh, and to his surprise her arms returned to their lock around him and she pulled him into a close hug. "Thank you," she quietly uttered, hearing Johnny kicking at the car window with his foot. "We... we should go, before the FBI gets here."

Releasing him, she gave him a sheepish smile before getting into her car, and he rounded to the passenger side to get in. "So... what now?"

"We take the little fucker to his uncle," she masked her bitter tone with a smirk, before starting up her car and driving off.

* * *

It was both thrilling and somewhat uncomfortable for Oswald to watch from the car as Belle escorted the troublesome high school senior into the half-constructed parking garage near Falcone's business. She'd called him on their way and he gave her the instruction to go there, to assure the highest discretion. A couple of his goons were on standby, and approached her when they saw her walking up. They exchanged a few words, then gave Johnny some mean and less-than-pleasant looks, then after another brief bit of conversation, they nodded and took the boy with them, and she returned to the car.

The drive back to Mooney's was fairly silent. Both felt as if a thousand words lie at the tip of their tongues, but neither made a peep. They quietly parked and walked back across the street to the nightclub, entering through the back door. Fish Mooney stood waiting for them in her office.

"I just got off the phone with Falcone," she spoke in that characteristic smooth tone as they entered, "and it seems his nephew was safely returned." Zoning in on Belle, she sauntered over with long graceful steps and placed her hands on her shoulders. "You did it again, _Miss Spicer_~" Her lips cracked into a wide grin and she let out a laugh. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you? And... as for you," her head slowly craned to peek curiously at the young male, "color me impressed, _little Oswald_."

Leaving out the bit about having a mysterious connection to the government, Belle filled her boss in on what had happened, and found herself emphasizing Oswald's participation. She left out the ending though, about how he'd saved her, and she wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe she wasn't ready to admit to anyone else that she had needed saving, that she wasn't as strong and invincible as she sometimes imagined. No, she was human, helplessly regretfully human, and no matter how powerful or influential she was, she could be broken just like anyone else.

Belle was a glass cannon.

* * *

**author's note;**

**omg this chapter is so freaking long and it killed me dead to write it all out. I got rekt, m8. Write it on my tombstone that I was no-scoped by literareutr. And I'm sooo sorry it took me a bit over a week to get this out! x_x It was like twice as long as any of my previous chapters... but I also hope that makes it worth the wait? DRAMATIC THINGS, omg. **

**I ended up making a rp/ask blog Tumblr for Belle... xD so if you're into that sort of thing, go bug her at [spicepot] and I'll love you forever. Throw cheetohs at her or something. ANYTHING WORKS :D and once again I thank you all for your continued support and love, your reviews and follows and favorites are honestly what keep me motivated all week long to continue writing! :D so thank you guys so much!**

**Also, I cracked up on last night's episode when Oswald is asking to be Jim Gordon's special agent xD like now I want some crack-fiction about the two of them getting into slapstick police shenanigans.**

* * *

**Next chapter...** _"Incision"_

"(Is it a rival gang?)"

"(No, it can't be. We don't have many friends... but we don't have many enemies, either. None that would do this.)"

"(How many deaths are we talking?)"

"(This week? Three. Last week, five. And four the week before.)"

"(Shit, aren't the police investigating this? With that many bodies-)"

"(Ha, you think the police care about a handful of foreign gangsters getting murdered in the backstreets?)"


	6. Incision

**UNBOUND**  
_Chapter 6: Incision_

"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree; the wounds remain. In time,  
the mind - protecting its sanity - covers them with scar tissue, and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."

Rose Kennedy

* * *

_It was dark and cold, and nine-year-old Isabelle curled up into a ball against the hard concrete floor. Her mouth was dry, her body weak, her wrists burning against the freezing metal chains that bound them to hooks in the ground. She yelled and screamed and cried for her mother, especially when the beatings started, when the tall black silhouettes loomed over her small and frail form. She choked and begged and pleaded but never released the hope that her mom would come, even as they told her this was all her mother's fault. Her world was starting to fade into black, but her glazing eyes caught the sudden, bright glimmer of a knife's blade... only now, it was a gun, and the sharp, searing pain across her stomach now pressed against her forehead, the roaring pain of her bruised ribs moving to her throat. A wicked, demonic grin spread across the gnarled maw of the silhouette before squeezing the trigger with a loud BANG-_

Belle nearly fell out of her bed as she jumped up, gasping for air, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. The back of her shirt was soaked from cold sweat, and she felt tears - both fresh and dried - trailing down her face.

This was the third night in a row.

Realizing she wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight, she climbed out of bed and decided to take a long shower. The warm water was relaxing and the steam helped to clear her head. Ever since that night in the storage unit, she'd been plagued with nightmares - which sounded ridiculous, and it made her feel like a child. And it wasn't like that was her first brush with death, she'd had several close calls throughout her lifetime. But something about this particular incident chilled her to the bone; it haunted every inch of her subconscious, managing to wake a painful, buried memory. There was a unique flavor of fear that came with the utter sense of helplessness, and she'd only ever experienced that once before - her fingers gently traced the long, shiny pink scar that danced across her abdomen. When she was still a kid, the mark was wide and dark; as she grew, it became lighter and the discoloration wasn't nearly so noticeable.

How ironic it seemed, that once she was an agent in training, having such a scar was considered cool and edgy... and yet it didn't look nearly as rough and rugged as it did when she was in middle school and was teased mercilessly once the other girls noticed it in the locker room. It served as an anchor for all the memories she tried to run away from.

Stepping out of the shower, she toweled off and haphazardly wiped off the layer of fog on her mirror to examine the finger-shaped bruises along her neck. They were much darker than they had been yesterday, turning her fair skin a deep purple with blotches of yellow, and the shape was more defined. It would be nearly impossible to hide with makeup this time, and the thought of Gilzean or Mooney asking her about it made her insides churn. But facing Oswald...? She could feel her blood pressure spike at the idea, and she didn't fully understand why. He'd saved her, he was the reason she was alive, but being around him was suddenly unbearable... _ah_, it didn't matter. She'd have to anyways, so there was no point in fretting over it.

* * *

For the past few days, no one seemed to notice that Belle had been relatively quiet and arguably withdrawn from any unnecessary social interaction - no one except Oswald, of course. She didn't hang around to talk with the guys, visit him on her short breaks, make stupid jokes... she hadn't even smiled unless addressing Mooney or dealing with customers, and even then it was only enough to be polite and friendly. Her pleasant demeanor had never been so shallow, and he found himself missing that bright spark. After three days, he was starting to miss it a lot.

He tried to understand what she must have been going through, though he'd never been in such a situation. As exciting as the life of a crime boss' assistant was, he'd never been marched to the brink of death, to the end of the line, with all the fight in the world but without a single hope of escape. That was sure to change someone, even on the most subtle of levels, but he dearly wished this change in Belle was only temporary. There wasn't too much in his days that he looked forward to, much less _enjoyed_, but she'd become a quirky little light in his life and it seemed drastically darker without her.

When she came in that night for her regular shift, he sprung up from his seat at the bar. "Good evening, Belle!"

"Hey, Oz," she replied with minimal enthusiasm and a polite smile, but he wasn't fooled. He recognized a rehearsed smile when he saw one, he'd practiced them enough himself.

Noting the colorful fabric she wore draped around her neck, he offered the sweetest smile he could muster. "That's a beautiful scarf."

"Thanks," she murmured under her breath, though she didn't seem to feel complimented. He'd noticed red marks starting to form on her skin yesterday, and figured she must have been wearing the scarf to hide the darkening bruises... though it did really bring out the color in her eyes. He would have tried for more interaction but before he could, she gave him a polite nod and passed by him, heading toward Mooney's office; he'd never felt so far away from her.

* * *

Belle prodded and straightened and adjusted her scarf as she walked back towards her boss' office. Having rarely worn scarves, she felt rather insecure and self-conscious but she knew she'd be worse off without it. With a courtesy knock, she opened the door to see Fish Mooney at her desk, and put on her best socialite smile.

"Isabelle! I've been waiting for you," her voice had an extra bit of pep in it, and Belle wasn't sure if she should be excited or frightened, "please, have a seat."

She thought about objecting, about questioning this odd and uncharacteristic greeting, but she decided not to. Complying with her demand - because even when Mooney said please, it was a demand nonetheless - Belle carefully sat down in the chair opposite hers. "Yes, Miss Mooney?"

"You know, Falcone and his whole damn happy family are still singing praises for what you did the other day," she spoke slowly, leaning forward as her lips spread into a dark grin, "and they're praisin' _me_ for thinking to send you. But we both know that's not how it went down, is it... No, my little songbird, you stood up and told me _my_ plan was wrong."

As hard as it was to read Mooney, Belle couldn't help but feel like this was headed in an unpleasant direction. Mooney's golden eyes narrowed as they stared holes through her, and she felt her gut beginning to swell with bad feelings - but suddenly, Mooney sat up and laughed, and she wasn't entirely sure how to gauge this situation anymore.

"That took guts, baby girl, and normally I'd have smacked your pretty little face across the room but you knew exactly what to do and you stuck your neck out to keep me from making a bad play. And now I look like a saint for orchestrating the whole operation." Long, carefully manicured nails drummed against the desk's surface before pointing at Belle. "I can't have you runnin' around here serving food and washing dishes. Not anymore. You'll need a more _flexible schedule_. You've been promoted."

Belle's eyes widened, her heart nearly skipping a beat as a sudden happiness and pride rushed through her. "P-promoted?! To what?"

"How does manager sound?"

"But... isn't Gilzean the restaurant manager?"

"Then let me rephrase... _co-manager_. I'm sure Butch won't mind sharing his power."

It hadn't even been three full weeks and Belle had gone from low-level errand grunt to second-in-command? If she were a puppy, her tail would be wagging furiously. The fact that she'd earned Mooney's praise and respect caused her to forget all about death and dying and weakness - and, for a tiny fragment of a moment, she almost forgot that she was an undercover agent. "Well, I- uh- Thank you!"

"I don't know why Falcone didn't hold onto you but I'm glad he didn't." Taking a breath, she straightened herself in her seat and lowered her head. "Now, the first order of business... I got a call from your new Japanese friends today. Seems like they're under the impression I owe them a _favor_."

_Uh oh_. There it was, that sinking feeling again.

"But I guess I can't argue; if they hadn't let you live, I'd have missed out on my shiny new toy."

Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad... Still, she felt on edge.

"Sounded like they have a bit of a situation and need connections with the GCPD. I told them you could help. Unfortunately I can't spare the manpower so I'm afraid you're on your own with this one."

"Of course," Belle nodded, "I have their number. I'll call them after I..." her voice trailed off as she remembered her sudden change in position. "Uh... I guess I don't have a shift anymore... do I?"

"Not as a waitress," Mooney smirked, "but I'll give you a couple days to wrap this _situation_ up. Then you'll come back as _co_-manager."

"Yes ma'am!" She jumped up and quickly said her goodbyes before leaving out the door. Another case may be exactly what she needed to get herself out of this fearful funk - and the promotion didn't hurt, either. Quietly leaving the nightclub, she walked out onto the sidewalk and pulled out her phone to search through her contacts. However, she saw that she had two new messages from **Mickey J** \- her FBI case handler, Agent Jack McCall - and decided to read those first.

**From: Mickey J**  
haven't heard from u since kidnapper incident. we should meet.

**From: Mickey J**  
come on. don't drown on me.

Her thumbs pecked and tumbled across the keypad as she hashed out a short reply.

**To: Mickey J**  
sorry. not drowning, but not a good time xx

After it sent, she went back to her contacts and scrolled through until she found Ryosuke's number - listed as **Dragon Punch** \- and called him. After a couple rings, he picked up and greeted her with a chuckle and a "(Hello, Spice~)".

The beauty of a foreign language was it massively cut down the amount of people who could effectively eavesdrop on your conversation - so she chose to stick with Japanese. "(Good evening, Ryosuke. I hear you guys need some help. What can I do?)"

"(It's pretty bad. Akahara's at the end of his rope, we're all terrified. And like he told you before, there's no one on our side to help us out. We're alone in the dark here.)"

"(What's happened?)"

"(Someone's killing us, baby. Triad, too. The blood of our friends runs through the alleyways.)"

"(Is it a rival gang?)"

"(No, it can't be. We don't have many friends... but we don't have many enemies, either. None that would do this.)"

"(How many deaths are we talking?)"

"(This week? Three. Last week, five. And four the week before.)"

"(Shit, aren't the police investigating this? With that many bodies-)"

"(Ha, you think the police care about a handful of foreign gangsters getting murdered in the backstreets?)"

Belle took a slow breath, running a hand through her wavy, red velvet hair as she took in this troubling information. How could there be that many murders of a specific group and no one to do anything about it? _I suppose that's Gotham_, she thought to herself, and knew she needed to resolve this before more lives were taken.

"(Unfortunately the police would have all the information I need. But don't worry, I'll get in and figure this out.)"

"(Thanks, I know you owe us a favor but... this is a really huge one. We may end up owing you.)"

"(Don't worry about that. Tell Akahara he'll be able to rest easy soon enough.)"

"(Thank you. Keep me updated.)"

"(Of course.)"

The call ended and Belle snapped her phone closed, staring at it within her hand for a moment. How in the hell was she going to pull this one off? But she'd already given herself the first step. The GCPD had jurisdiction here, so the FBI wouldn't be of much use - she would have to go to the station and find the detectives working on this case. If she presented herself as a willing informant, she'd be able to investigate on her own and bring all evidence to them. They'd have the legal right to accept and use her information, and she'd have access to the information she needed.

Hopefully these detectives would see it the same way.

* * *

The police station was loud and swarming with people, who wiggled past each other and squirmed around desks like busy little worker bees. Phones were constantly ringing, papers were shuffling, someone was yelling and someone else was sobbing. Belle was quickly reminded why she went into the federal agency instead of local law enforcement, as she observed the chaos from where she stood by the front desk.

"I'm sorry, Captain Essen has her hands full at the moment."

"No trust me, this is important. She knows me, I'll only be a minute."

"Sorry ma'am, you'll have to schedule something with her if you'd like to meet."

After an exasperated sigh, Belle suddenly heard her name and looked up. A male detective with steely blue eyes took her in with surprise, and made his way over. Her own eyes lit up as she recognized the guy who had taken her into this hellhole before. "Detective Gordon!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Ironically, I... need to see the captain."

He broke into a smile and laughed before glancing around. "Geez, is that all you ever say?"

"Seriously though. It's important."

Turning to the woman at the desk, he nodded. "Sign her in, I'll take her with me." Belle nodded with gratitude before quickly scribbling a fake name and following him through the crowd. "What's so important that you have to go to the captain?"

"It's a... case on the side that I picked up."

"Oh? Wait..." He slowed down to glance over his shoulder. "You're doing case work while working under Falcone?"

"Sorta," she muttered, following more closely so that they could speak with a lower volume, "as far as everyone here is concerned, I'm a voluntary informant. Just here to help with a case. That's all."

"You can do that?"

They came to a stop outside the captain's office. "Of course I can," she murmured just above a whisper, "you're a cop, I'm _under_. The rules are a little different." He eyed her for a moment before knocking on the door. After the captain called them in, he opened and held the door for her before closing it behind her and returning to his own task.

"Agent Spicer," Essen said with as much surprise as Gordon had expressed as she stood up from her paper-covered desk, "how can I help you?"

"Hello again, Captain~" she said with a cheerful smile, "I understand there's been a troubling string of murders around the Yakuza territories."

"Yeah, we- wait, why are you interested in that?"

"I've made some connections within the Yakuza, and to be honest, they came to me for help. I'm sure it's not high on the priority list so I figured I could talk to the detectives assigned to the case and... _expedite_ the investigation."

"... I see." With a pause, she thought it over. "We could definitely use the victory, we just have our resources going toward other things. If you have anything to contribute, it'd be a big help to the department."

"Well I'm here to protect and serve."

"Right. You'll want to talk to Detectives Cruz and Lodrigues, then."

* * *

On the second level of the station, against the balcony that overlooked the bustling pit of street cops below, she found the adjacent desks of the detectives assigned to the Yakuza murders. Quietly approaching the female detective, she gently cleared her throat to avoid startling them. "Umm, excuse me. Are you... Detective Cruz?"

Despite her efforts, Cruz jumped at Belle's voice and quickly spun around in her chair. "Uh, yes! Yes that's me," she gave a friendly smile that immediately put Belle at ease, "what can I do ya for?"

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, my name's Belle - Isabelle Spicer - and I think I can help you on one of your cases."

"Oh? Which one?"

"The recent Yakuza murders. I... have connections, and I think I could get you valuable informa-"

Cruz's partner, Lodrigues, suddenly looked up from a file he'd been reading. "Oh god, you're not _dating_ one of them are you?"

"Lodi!"

"What?! It's a valid question - if she's dating a gangster, that speaks volumes about her judgment and reason."

Belle couldn't help but crack an amused grin. "No no, I'm not dating anyone but I do know the leader, Akahara. His second-in-command called me personally to ask for help. They're desperate."

Despite the other detective's suspicious glaring, Cruz grinned and nodded. "Well hey, if you know anything that'll help us out, please tell us!"

"Whoa whoa, hold on," he threw a hand up to stop his partner, his other hand adjusting his glasses, "before you roll out the welcome wagon, Skippy, don't you think we should figure out who the hell this chick is? She's got mob bosses calling her up for favors-"

"He's right," Belle interrupted, "I should introduce myself a bit more first." Grabbing a vacant chair, she quietly pulled it over next to their desks and sat down. "Look, I do some work for Falcone, so yes I have some interesting connections. Normally I wouldn't interfere, but these guys are dropping like flies and it doesn't sit right with me. How about I act as your personal informant on this case? I'm no cop, I can sneak around and break into places, extract information in ways you guys can't. I can gather evidence a lot more quickly than you guys can because I don't have rules to follow. But as an informant, you can legally accept whatever evidence and information I bring in."

Cruz's hazel-green eyes lit up with a combination of curiosity and excitement. "But you need access to the case files, right? So you're seeking a sort of under-the-table partnership?"

"Exactly!"

"Shit, let's do it! I'm Krystal, by the way. No need to be formal, right?"

"I guess not," Belle spoke with a smile, before glancing over to the other detective who dramatically slumped down in his chair in defeat, "and what do you prefer to go by?"

"Ugggggh~" he groaned, "as long as you're helping us out of the kindness from your _bleeding gangster heart_, you can call me Lodi."

"Oh don't be like that. She's the one who came here to offer her help, now shush and accept it."

Belle liked these two. They seemed friendly and entertaining enough, and it was a lot easier than she'd expected to win over their favor. She almost felt guilty, but for once she wasn't playing or deceiving anyone - in fact, the only lie she'd told was to protect her cover. Captain Essen and Detective Gordon knew she was a federal agent, but if anyone else found out, or the information spread through the department, who knew how long it would take for the rumors to start popping up in the underworld. No - the less people who knew, the better; it protected both her and them. Besides, Mooney and Akahara both knew she'd be talking to the police anyways so there was nothing to hide from either party.

The one thing she was absolutely sure about, however, was how good it felt to be back on the side of the law.

* * *

Steam slowly guzzled out of the exhaust chimney sticking from the back wall of the dry cleaners as Belle and her new detective buddies slipped under the yellow caution tape to revisit the most recent crime scene. The bodies had yet to be moved, since they'd only been found an hour prior. The forensics unit was still out picking up shards of glass and photographing blood spatter, and they stepped aside so Belle could approach one of the covered victims. Very carefully, she peeled back the heavy sheet to reveal a younger Japanese male, with purple bruises set along his jawline.

"What's the cause of death?"

"They bled out, after being beaten unconscious." Lodi pulled out his pad and flipped through his notes. "They've all had some kind of cut on their side, fresh but patched up."

Cautious to touch only what she needed to, her fingertips gripped the edge of the deceased male's shirt and slid it up, to reveal an incision across the side of his abdomen.

"It's clean, isn't it," Krystal said, pursing her lips together in thought as she crouched next to Belle to look again, "looks professional. Do gangsters usually have surgical prowess like that?"

"No," she replied, examining the flayed flesh around the sutures that patched up the cut, "and they certainly wouldn't have closed the wound like this. But the way the edges of flesh are rough and hardened... this was done post-mortem."

"Why patch them up if they're already dead?"

"Maybe it's professional courtesy. Doctors will patch up open wounds after a patient dies, maybe it's... habit."

"And why do it in the first place? I mean what, do they need extra practice or something?"

Belle snorted and pulled back the body's shirt, replacing the sheet before standing up. "Maybe their exam is coming up and this is one hell of a cram session." She turned to Lodi, who was suddenly jotting down notes and silently mouthing the words 'cram session' as he wrote. "But it's not about the cut itself. This was surgery."

"Good deduction," he joked, clipping the pen back onto the pad, "all the victims have the same incision, and all are missing their kidneys."

"Black market organs," she growled before drooping her head, "of _course_. Have you interrogated anyone at the hospital yet?"

"We can barely scratch the surface of that minefield," Lodi scoffed, "without a warrant we can't get shit. And without shit, we can't get a warrant."

"Well it sounds like I came to you at the right time then~" she smiled extra sweetly and batted her lashes, but it didn't ease the intensity of his scrutinizing gaze.

"I _still_ think you're up to something."

"Aha! So what are you gonna do, Belles? Sneak into the hospital, spy on the doctors?"

"_Shhh_, keep it down, woman." She quickly glanced from side to side, making sure none of the CSI units were paying particular attention. "But actually that's... a pretty good summary of what I'll be doing. You guys stay here while they move the bodies, and the autopsy reports from the first batch of victims should be finished by now. Look for any high-end drugs or toxins that could only be accessible to hospital staff. I'll go see what I can dig up first-hand."

"Gotcha! Wait, did we exchange numbers yet?"

"Oh, right!" Pulling out her phone, Belle flipped to her contacts and pulled up a blank profile before handing it over. "Here, just punch in your number." Krystal pulled hers out and handed it to Belle. They typed in their numbers before exchanging them back, and she looked down at her new contact: **Cruzer Poozer**.

Before she could laugh, Krystal chortled and held up her phone. "_Spicey Meatbelle_?!" They both broke out into laughter, giving each other a fist bump while Lodi watched with both wonder and fear.

"Oh god, there's _two of them_."

* * *

For the first time in days, Belle felt energetic enough to have a bit of a bounce in her step; the excitement of a new case to solve, her rising status with Mooney, her new friendly connections... she was feeling back to her old self again. Flipping open her phone as she walked down the street to Gotham Medical, she found **Dragon Punch** and dialed him up. His greeting this time wasn't nearly as enthusiastic.

"(I'm in, Ryo. Just left the scene of a recent attack. Two more bodies were found over an hour ago.)"

"(Shit. Tell me you've got something.)"

"(I do. All the victims so far have been beaten unconscious, and then had their kidneys surgically removed.)"

"(Wait wait... what the fuck did you just say?)"

"(Your guys are being killed for their organs. Judging by the surgical skill of the killer, he's probably a doctor. And he knew exactly who to target, knowing the police wouldn't be concerned with the case, nor Falcone, or any of the other major crime families... so he's gotta be local.)"

"(Fuck. Organs? Why the hell is someone taking organs?!)"

"(The demand for organs is actually pretty high on the black market. In the United States, they sell easily for $120,000 a pair. If he's selling to a broker overseas, he could be raking in a lot of money.)"

"(Shit... shit, man, you gotta find this fucker.)"

"(I'm on my way to the hospital now, and I've... I've got a contact who knows the black market organ trade inside and out.)"

"(Yeah. Let me know what you find.)"

Hanging up the call, she slowed to a stop. Her hand began to tremble nervously as her fingers scrolled through her contact list until they reached one simply titled **o1**. Hovering over the call button, she forced her thumb down and slowly raised the phone to her ear. Each ring seemed to last a lifetime, and she stood in wait, her heart beginning to race and with the sudden need to move, she resumed walking. Abruptly the ringing stopped, and a gruff-voiced male cleared his throat before answering.

"Hello?"

All at once her racing heart seemed to freeze, and it took her a moment to remember how to produce sound. "H-hey... it's, uh..."

"Is... Is this Belle?!"

"Y-yeah..." she said quietly, biting her lip as her free hand flexed and fidgeted before retreating into her pocket. "It's me, dad."

It was a bittersweet reunion, painful only because she'd neglected to even contact him after college graduation. She was so determined to enter the academy and leave her past behind, and once she realized how easily she'd tossed it away, she feared it would only hurt her father more to drop in all of a sudden. The longer she put off calling him, the more anxious she felt just thinking about it, and before she knew it, years had gone by. The pure joy in his voice as he laughed sent a sharp pang of guilt deep into her core.

"I know it's been a long time, dad, I'm... sorry I never called sooner."

"Yes but you- you called now! So that's good! Great!"

"I promise, I'll start calling you more. I'm just... pretty busy nowadays."

"Sounds like it! No worries, sweat pea, I've always got my phone on me and uh, well I'm still a night owl so you call me whenever you want!"

"Of course... but, I called for a reason tonight, I... I need your help with something."

"Oh? God, of course, anything!"

She wished he didn't sound so happy and delighted to hear from her, it made her feel even worse. "Uh, well. I've got this... this case, and-"

"A case?! That's great! I knew you'd be a great-"

"Dad, listen, I- well..." A groan snuck out from her parting lips as she struggled to phrase her question. She was only a block away from the hospital now. "I need to know how to find a doctor who's been selling organs under the table."

"O- ... oh, oh I see... Belle baby, you know I haven't done that in a long ti-"

"I know, dad, you aren't in any trouble, I just... I don't know what to look for."

"Does he work in a hospital, or a private practice?"

"I believe he works at the hospital."

"Alright then, that makes it easy. You'll have to..." He pushed the phone closer to his mouth as he spoke. "You'll have to get into the computers. To check out the equipment he'd need, or any drugs, he'd pad it into his normal schedule. Check for an influx of surgeries, maybe someone who's been volunteering for a lot of operations, someone looking to fill their schedule with minor stuff. Check especially for organ transplants. Anything that looks off."

It felt strange to hear her dad talk that way, the way _she_ would talk to another agent. But her father had become one of the most infamous underground doctors on the western coast. He knew the medical black market like the back of his hand, even if he'd been out of the trade for years now... Come to think of it, he quit his practice when Belle got into college - perhaps he desired a more suitable career choice for the proud father of a criminology major.

"And what then? How do I look into any doctors if they don't seem to check out?"

"Organ trades are done with cash, and the seller usually launders the money to clean it and remove all connection to the buyer. As a doctor, it's stupidly easy to do, but it's not always quick. If it's within a day of the murder, your guy will probably have the cash somewhere close by. On the off-chance they wire the money - which is a pain in the ass to do because half the time you get scammed as fuck - they'll probably have the account number written down and hidden somewhere safe."

"And if I come up with nothing?"

"Bug the phones. You know how to do that? You jus-"

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Oh my god, my baby's bugging phones, oh man if your mother could- nevermind, okay, just... so bug the phones, doctors usually leave their phones in their office during work. The signals tend to fuck up the machines, which is why they always use pagers. So it should be easy to get to. But seriously, sweet pea, I can't believe we're- I mean- man I never thought we'd have this kind of bonding! Never too late, right?"

"Never too late," she replied, standing in front of the hospital, "but I'm here now. I'll call you later."

"Alright! Stay safe! Watch for security cameras! You know, if you use a laser poin-"

"Yeah, got it!"

"Okay! Of course you do! I love you!"

"I... uh, me too." With a sigh, she hung up the call and stuffed the phone deep into her pocket. That conversation was all kinds of strange and uncomfortable, but oddly enough, it was nice. He was right, it was... a special kind of father-daughter bonding moment, but the fact that he didn't seem angry or upset with her at all made her uneasy. In fact, it was the same kind of uneasiness she was feeling around Oswald; the failure to keep him at arm's length and the inability to push him away.

* * *

Detective Cruz gently dropped into her chair and rubbed her eyes, her partner plopping in front of his own desk with a loud sigh. She'd called forensics on their way back from the crime scene to ask for the autopsy reports of last week's victims, hoping they'd be waiting for her when they returned. "Man, where'd the time go today? How is it so late?"

"Justice never sleeps," Lodi murmured before opening wide for a yawn.

"But hey, we struck gold today with our new buddy - if she can get all the evidence we need, we can wrap this case up fast, maybe even make it on the news!"

"The news, huh?" He looked up, his eyes narrowing in thought as he turned his head one way and then the other. "Which is my best side? I mean I assume they'll have decent lighting."

"Definitely the right, and oh- chin up just a little- right there! You look very noble like that!"

He straightened up, holding his pose. "And right here," he gestured in front of him with his hand, "is where the headline will scroll... _Two Badass Cops Dishing Out Justice in Record Time_. You think they can green-screen the American flag waving majestically behind me?"

"Maybe we shouldn't jinx it," she laughed as she shook her head, "I mean with Lodi Luck and all, they may end up giving us the wrong headline or something."

"Ugh, fucking _Lodi Luck_," he groaned, abandoning his noble pose, "they'd probably give me some child molester headline or wait until I scratched my nose to record."

"Oh lordy," she chuckled, "they probably would. Maybe we'll stick to the newspapers."

"I'd settle for a poorly placed picture that makes me look creepy as hell when it's all folded up."

"See? There ya go!"

As they laughed, a tall and slender figure silently approached them, looming beside them awkwardly until Cruz caught him out of the corner of her eye and jumped. "Whoa! God, you scared me again!"

The bi-speckled man grinned widely, his grip tightening on the file report in his hands. "You requested the lab reports from last week's Yakuza murder victims?"

"Yeah, Edward," Lodi toyed with a pencil on his desk, "did you find anything useful?"

"Well! What do you call a man who says he'll treat you, then makes you pay?" Edward Nygma's grin widened further as he glanced between the two detectives.

Lodi shifted in his seat, his lips parting as he tried to think of an answer. "Uh... a douchebag?"

Krystal smirked and gave a short chuckle. "A _doctor_."

Nygma beamed with delight as she played along. "The sutures used to close the incisions were non-absorbable monofilament, not only hospital grade but consistent with the suture material used throughout Gotham Medical Center. Also, traces of enoxaparin were found in every victim's blood sample, which would have accelerated the activity of antithrombin III and therefore inhibited coagulation of-"

"Wait, what...?"

"Blood thinners, Krystal."

"Yes! Exactly."

"Blood thinners? But why?"

"To make them bleed out faster? I mean they probably wanted them to die as quickly as possible after taking their organs."

"Either way, that gives us two connections to a doctor at Gotham Medical."

The detectives quietly nodded to each other. Belle's assumption was right, and hopefully she was already getting her hands dirty to get them the evidence they needed to narrow down the suspects and possibly make an arrest.

* * *

A nurse paused from her furious typing to glance up at the approaching doctor, her brow raising with curiosity as she didn't recognize the other female. Gotham Medical was a huge hospital, but she would have surely remembered a doctor with such a deep red hair color. She watched with a skeptic look as the unknown doctor tried to walk back behind the counter. "Uh, can I _help_ you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You need authorization to come back here, ma'am."

"Uh, do I look like I _need_ authorization? I'm a _doctor_, I'm here saving lives. What are _you_ doing?"

The nurse quickly looked down and muttered an apology, then with a humiliated shuffle she left down the hallway. The red-headed doctor gently bit her lip to keep it from quivering. _"I'm so sorry,"_ she uttered under her breath, feeling a tidal wave of guilt having to bully someone like that. But a cover was a cover, and Belle had the access she needed. Swooping around behind the counter, where the computers were up and running, she quickly pulled out her keys from the pocket of her doctor's coat and popped the cap off what looked like a cute little keychain, revealing it to be a USB drive. Plugging it into the computers, the FBI general information database flashed up on the screen and she ran a search for the doctors' operation schedules.

According to the hospital records, no specific doctor seemed to be performing any more than usual, but after cross-referencing the names in the federal database, she noticed a name that seemed to be bounced around various hospitals all over the country at sporadic and often unrealistic times - one surgery in Los Angeles at 5am, followed by another one in Baltimore at 7am. And they were all for kidney transplants. _Where are you getting all your donors, Doctor Kiev?_ she asked herself, clicking on his profile and jotting down his basic information on a notepad. Including the room number to his office.

Stuffing the pad into her pocket, along with her keys, she left the computer station and navigated the brightly lit hallways, passing patients' rooms until reaching the private offices. Locating his, she pulled a metal pin from her hair and crouched down, sliding it into the keyhole and picking the lock before slipping inside.

His desk was a mess of papers and files and manilla envelopes, but after a minute of riffling through them, she figured there was nothing suspicious. She checked the drawers, then moved to the file cabinets, keeping in mind the tips her father had mentioned over the phone. There was a metal safe embedded in the wall beside the cabinets, and she grabbed a used clear-plastic cup from his desk. With a scalpel from a drawer, she cut out the bottom and placed the wide mouth of the cup against the door of the safe, with her ear at the cut-open end, and carefully began to turn the dial. Her safe-cracking skills were unfortunately minimal, having only had a basic course during her training, but it seemed to be enough because with a few minutes she was able to open it.

The results were a resounding disappointment. There was hardly anything of evidential value inside, just a few confidential patient files. Curious though, she picked one up and carefully thumbed through it, causing a small slip of paper to fall from the pages and drift to the floor. Picking it up, she unfolded it to find a long string of random numbers and letters... was this the number for wiring money? The thought was rather farfetched, as it literally could have been anything, but a closer look at the patient files showed that all were wealthy looking males with awfully malfunctioning kidneys.

There was no longer any doubt that this was her guy. Snapping a picture of the scribbled down account number, she returned everything to the safe just the way it was, and glanced around to spot the optimal place to plant a bug. She hadn't been able to find his phone, so she'd have to bug the room instead. Less reliable, but as a doctor, this is where he'd spent most of his spare time anyways - spare time that he wanted to keep private, at least. Her eyes settled on the air conditioning vent along the bottom of the far wall - but suddenly she heard the muffled echo of voices fluttering down the hallway. One of them was male.

With no intention of being caught in a private office by a man who butchered thugs and sold their organs, Belle made her swift escape. She would get a bug and plant it in his office first thing in the morning. According to his schedule, he had a kidney transplant in Ohio to perform.

* * *

"So explain to me again why you guys feel the obsessive-compulsive need to nickname every single one of your Pokemon," Lodi sneered in jest as he leaned forward from the backseat of Krystal's unmarked car, looking between her and Belle sitting in the front.

"Why is it so shocking that I'd give a name to my companions?"

"Yeah, I mean in the Pokemon world, you're basically nothing without them. Giving them a personal name is like, the least you could do!"

"See? Belle gets it." Krystal gave her an agreeing nod before sipping on her soda. "It's like that book where the space kid has a rose, or something, and it's special because it's just his, you know? I don't care how many Arcanines there are running around, I'm going to name _mine_ because he's special."

Lodi groaned in exasperation and flopped back in his seat. "You guys do remember it's a video game, right?" He eyed the opened phone sitting in the center console, watching as the call time counter ticked up and up, one second at a time. They'd been on stake-out for an hour already, parked in the shadows behind the hospital with the phone-line open to the bug Belle had slipped into Doctor Kiev's office. This was what most of the glory of detective work was - a whole lot of waiting. They waited to hear when the doctor would return to his office, make a call or have a conversation that would give him away. According to Belle's schedule he should have just finished up an operation - a legitimate one - so they expected him to return at any moment. All they had to do was wait for an absolution.

"Yeah but it's a game where you travel with these creatures for a long time, you're completely dependent on them for protection. How can you not form personal attachments?" Belle's attention snapped to her pocketed phone as it suddenly vibrated in a couple of short bursts. Pulling it out, she saw two messages waiting in her inbox and clicked them open.

**From: Mickey J**  
is now a good time, belles?

**From: Mickey J**  
we really need to talk asap. captain breathing down my neck. call me.

She stared at the screen for a few moments, biting at her lip before snapping her phone closed and putting it back in her pocket.

"Wow, speaking of personal attachments..." Krystal smirked and watched Belle carefully, waiting for a response.

"What...?"

"I could read every emotion that just flashed across your face. Who was texting you and why are you so flustered?"

"Oh, that? No, it's nothing, it's-"

"Oh come on! We're better friends than that!"

Oddly enough, Krystal was right. They'd only known each other for two days, but they were clearly on the same wavelength. There had been an instant spark and they came together perfectly, so much so that even through Belle's insecurities and fear of getting too close to people, she couldn't help but want to tell her everything. "He's... well, he's an FBI agent. Helps me out sometimes when I need it."

"Well does he think you need help now?"

"No, I... there was a thing. Happened a few days ago, I'm... I mean I'm fine, but he's hounding me for details and I'm just not ready to relive it right now."

"What happened?"

"Krystal, she _literally just said_-"

"It was another case, I guess," Belle began before even realizing it, "and I slipped up. I was caught off-guard and... I-I almost..."

"But you didn't," the detective offered with a soft smile, "so something worked out, right?"

"Heh," slowly Belle returned the smile, "yeah, you could say that. My... uh..." She suddenly paused, reaching an awkward vocabulary impasse when she tried to figure out what word to use for Oswald. What was he to her? A partner, a friend?

"Your what? What saved ya?"

"My... coworker. He... he seemed like he'd be good at that kind of stuff, he's smart and knows how people work. He was sort of my partner for the case and... in the end, it was him who ended up saving me."

"Aww!"

Belle immediately blushed, her eyes widening. "Wh-why '_aww_'? There's no 'aww'!"

"Awww!" Krystal repeated more loudly. "You're turning red! There's definitely an 'aww'! So you like this guy?"

"Whoa whoa- slow down, _no no no_. Pump the brakes." She was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with even the notion of... whatever Krystal had assumed. "I- he- ... we were just doing our jobs. He's an asset to me, yes, but that's it. Just..." Looking away, she pursed her lips for a moment before forcing herself to say it out loud. "Just a tool to help me do my job. That's it."

"You know," Lodi suddenly chimed in, "there's a lot of ways a life-or-death situation can fuck with your head. Did _he_ think of it as just doing his job?"

"I... I don't know. I haven't really... spoken to him, since it happened."

"Wait, I thought you guys worked together?"

"We do, but-"

"Whoa, okay now _you_ pump the brakes." Lodi leaned forward to glare more closely at Belle. "Let me get this straight. You mess up, almost die, Mr. Asset saves your ass and... what, you're ignoring him now?"

"What? I'm not ignoring him, I'm just-"

"No, it sounds like you are, just like you're ignoring your little FBI buddy. Look, Belle, I'm saying this only out of respect for you and your help so far... you're blowing him off because you got kicked in the ego. That's a totally selfish, dick move and you need to get over yourself. Imagine what the poor bastard is thinking, he just saved your life and now he's getting the ass-end of it."

Like a blind-sighted animal, Belle stared at him with wide eyes, her lips parting to respond, her first instinct to defend herself - but she couldn't. The more his words began to sink in, the more she realized he was right. Is that what this was about? Her crushed ego? Was it really that superficial? She had been so consumed with her own angst and fear that she had barely considered her poor _asset_. Her mind quickly flashed through the past couple of days and she watched with a dawning horror all the times he'd tried to talk to her, to approach her, to make jokes - and every time she'd blown him off. She'd given him some half-assed answer because she was wrapped up in her own head.

"Lodi!"

"What?! You know I'm right, I just don't sugar-coat it."

"No," Belle finally spoke, "you... you are right. I guess I never looked at it like that, I- ... _thank you_."

"Well on behalf of all the poor souls out there who get the cold shoulder after helping someone out, you're welcome."

"And I hate to bring it up again," Krystal said, unable to hide her growing smirk, "but I don't think he's merely a tool. Not to you, anyways."

He wasn't, and Belle couldn't convince herself that he was; she couldn't even convince someone she'd barely met. But he needed to be. He needed to be nothing more than a silly nickname in her list of contacts, there to be called upon whenever she needed his knowledge or connections. He needed to be just another means to an end.

"In any case, you should at least make up for the way you've treated him lately. Go hang out! Talk to him!"

Lodi went to add something, but suddenly stopped when he heard a loud noise coming from the proxy phone. They all snapped to attention, having forgotten about their actual duty, and became deathly silent as they heard a door close on the other end of the receiver, and footsteps shuffling around. There were multiple beeps of a phone being dialed, and after a moment they heard an older man's voice.

_"Yeah. Deal's done. We'll have the money by tomorrow... yes. They bought the last- ... what? Are you sure? Fuck! When do they expect a shipment, hmm? Oh great, tomorrow. This is why I tell you to let me deal with the sale, you're out there selling merchandise we don't even have."_

The three of them glanced up at each other, and they waited through a long pause until the doctor spoke again.

_"Then you'll have to make a house call. I already picked him out... yes. Hold on..." _There was a scuffling of papers. _"Mikado Hiragashi. He's only a few blocks away from where you are now. Make it quick, and get back here. I'll text you the address."_ There was another pause, and then the opening and closing of the office door.

"Shit! He's got a partner?!"

Belle fumbled to pull out her phone and hastily dialed Ryosuke while Krystal started the car and buckled up. _Pick up, pick up_, she mentally urged with each ring of the phone.

"Fuck, we need to get there before the surgeon does!"

"Belle, do you know where this Mikado guy lives?!"

She was still waiting for the phone to pick up as they sped out from the back parking lot of the hospital. "Hold on, I'm trying to find out- Ryosuke?"

He'd finally answered. "(Yes? What's wrong?!)"

"(Mikado Hiragashi, do you know him?)"

"(What? Yes, yes he's one of us! Just went home a while ago-)"

"(The killer is on his way to his house right now! Where does he live?!)"

"(To his house?! What the fuck?!)"

"(Ryosuke, where does he live?!)"

"(Oh shit, uh- I'll get his address! I'll text it!)"

"(Do it right now!)"

He'd quickly hung up, and she told Krystal he was getting the address. Fortunately for them, Krystal was no granny-driver and quickly sped their car - though somehow still in a legal manner - towards the Yakuza territory. As soon as her phone buzzed with a text, Belle flipped it open and called out the address, and her racing heart was muffled only by the roar of the car's acceleration.

In no time at all, they were whipping into the small lot of the cheap, trashy apartment complex on two wheels. Screeching to a halt, Krystal pulled the car sideways across several spaces and was already out by the time the engine stopped. "That's good enough for the government~" she muttered, examining her parking job as the other two jumped out of the car. Lodi already had his gun drawn, but the detectives seemed to wince when Belle pulled out her own gun, and she realized they probably weren't expecting her to have one on her. They quickly dismissed it to a future conversation and entered the rundown complex before flying up the stairs and finding the apartment number.

Preparing to flash their badge, Krystal went to knock at the door but Belle suddenly spun on her heel, lifting her leg to kick down the door with a loud crash that echoed down the hallway. With her gun raised and ready to shoot, she entered the apartment, turning to check the corners before venturing further into the room. The three of them spread out, clearing the area, until they reached the bedroom - where a man dressed in dark clothing loomed over an unconscious younger male.

"Drop your weapon!" Krystal and Belle shouted in sync, aiming their guns at the man as he stood up and threw his hands up, his fingers releasing a metal scapel that clattered to the ground. Lodi rushed forward to grab and handcuff him, and once he was neutralized, Belle knelt beside Mikado, the side of his face red and swollen. An empty syringe lay next to him on the floor, but without an open wound, the blood thinner alone wouldn't cause too much harm. And after checking under his shirt, she confirmed that there hadn't been any incision yet, and she breathed a sigh of relief as Lodi walked the surgeon out to the dark living room, reading off his rights.

"Jesus, Belle, we did it!"

"Yeah," she responded, standing up as she began to chew at her lip.

Krystal could tell there was something going on in her head. "Hey, what's with the face?"

"We've got the killer, but... the ringleader. The other doctor, he's still out there."

"We'll arrest him, too!"

"But on what?" She turned to the other and crossed her arms as she thought. "I mean, he's no street criminal, he's got money. He can afford lawyers, he can afford appeals. And a high-standing doctor isn't brought down easily unless there's plenty of solid evidence, I..."

"What are you talking about? Once we bring this guy in, we can get all the evidence we need to make the connection!"

"Do you think he'll wait around that long? He's expecting an organ delivery soon, what do you think he'll do when he never gets a call back? He'll be long gone by the time you get anything useful."

"Well what do we do, then? Arrest him now?"

"No..." She mulled it over in her head, and she didn't want to say it out loud, but... it was the best option. Crooked, yes, but the best option for true justice. "Wh-what if... what if you pin the whole thing on this guy? No one else knows he was following orders. Just... wrap up the case with him as the killer."

"A-Are you serious...?!"

"Unfortunately so."

"But what about the other doctor?"

"... I'll take care of him."

They exchanged fearful, reluctant, yet understanding glances. The criminal justice system was not without its flaws, and to follow it would allow a criminal to get away. To break it, however, would mean to ensure justice - the justice that all these victims deserved.

"It's... it's wrong though, isn't it?"

"An unjust means to achieve a just end. But... you're the detective. It's your call."

Krystal thought for a moment, glancing down to the unconscious gangster on the floor. If the lead doctor had any kind of escape route, he'd be far away by the time they booked the murderer. That meant he would only move on to another group of people, somewhere else in the world, who he figured no one would care about. "Fine... do it. This asshole doesn't get to keep going. As far as Gotham knows, we've caught the killer. And they're both guilty, so that's... all that matters."

"It's not always black and white, is it?" Belle sighed, pulling out her phone. "But I'll make sure to tie everything up nicely. It'll never get back to you or Lodi." Holding the phone to her ear, she waited until Ryosuke picked up. "(It's over. We got him.)"

After calling for the paramedics to come pick up Mikado, Belle helped the detectives escort the surgeon downstairs where a squad car waited for him. Once he was locked up in the backseat, Detective Cruz spun around and hugged her tightly. "This was so awesome, Belle! Seriously. Come visit us anytime and we can be the dynamic crime-fighting trio once more!"

"Of course, of course!" She said with a smile. "We'll definitely keep in touch. Now you go enjoy your victory at the station!"

"Oh man, you know we will!"

"Good~ I'll look for you guys in the papers tomorrow! I've... got things to do before the night's over." They exchanged nods, and waved their goodbyes, and Belle slipped into the shadows before disappearing. It was her turn, now, to be the predator.

* * *

A small silver car slowed to a stop in front of Ronnie's Pizzeria on 42nd the following morning. After the engine cut off, the door opened and Belle stepped out just as Ryosuke opened the front door to greet her with a wide grin on his face.

"You did it! (You're amazing!) Come inside, Akahara wants to meet with you!"

Following him inside, she was reminded of the last time she'd been there - it wasn't nearly as pleasant, and she hadn't received such a warm welcome. But walking in now, she was met with several Yakuza members, all in surprisingly pleasant spirits, and their leader Akahara soon emerged from the back room.

"Miss Spicer! Please, have a seat!" With a polite smile, she sat at the table beside her and Akahara sat across from her. "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you followed through on your promises. (Respect is everything) and now we are more than even. Whatever you need, you come to us. (For anything.)"

"Oh.. wow, Akahara-san, I'm honored! (I'm glad I was able to help,) no one deserves to be butchered in the streets. And that offer goes both ways - call me anytime you need someone else in your corner."

Ryosuke cleared his throat quietly. "I only wish we had a chance to get our hands on that (fucked up bastard). It doesn't seem fair he gets to live, even if it's behind bars."

"Actually..." Belle spoke, watching both men's eyes light up with curiosity before slowly grinning, "I have a present for you. A gift to celebrate our official alliance."

They both stood behind her as she unlocked her trunk and popped it open, their jaws dropping slightly as they saw a tall doctor bound tightly by his hands and feet, his mouth duct taped, squirming and groaning and staring up at them like a frightened animal. He flailed and wriggled around as they lifted him out and carried him inside, and there was immediately a sea of sadistic laughter and giddiness flowing from the pizzeria.

"(Who is this?! I thought the police caught the killer!)" Ryosuke asked once he came back from helping haul the doctor into the back room.

"They did. But this is the guy who gave the order. He made all the decisions. The police caught the lackey, (but I caught you the leader.)"

"It's about to get very festive in here, kitten. (Will you stay and celebrate?)"

"I'd love to, really!" Belle smiled, reaching out to touch Ryosuke's arm. "But... I already have lunch plans. You have fun with your new friend, though!" He laughed and nodded goodbye, and she turned and nearly skipped back to her car, feeling a rush of excitement as she headed towards Mooney's.

* * *

Oswald's eyes nearly crossed from working through so many numbers by the time his lunch break rolled around. He hated crunching the numbers for all of Fish Mooney's business ventures, but he'd always been adept at mathematics and was somehow stuck with the task. At least a break would let him clear his head, but after spending his days in the same restaurant, he couldn't bear the thought of eating its food, and decided to check for any more microwavable packs of ramen in the break room. Opening the cabinet doors, he spotted a package on the top shelf and frowned to himself before reaching up to try and snag it. His fingertips brushed against the plastic lining until finally finding a grip, but something suddenly poked against his ribs and he jumped with an audible _squeak_, spinning around to see a highly amused Belle. He blinked for a moment, his blue eyes wide as he tried to figure out what she was doing here - and how the hell she had been so quiet. She couldn't hold in her laughter any more, and with his own nervous chuckle, he managed to smile.

"S-sorry, you uh... really startled me there."

"I have to practice my ninja skills on _someone_~" she said with a playful wink, and his eyes softened with his widening smile. She seemed like she was back to her old self.

"Your skill seems... quite efficient enough. What are you doing back here?"

"What kind of dumb question is that?" Belle gave him a fake frown and stuck her tongue out. "I wanted to see you, of course! You're on break now, right?"

His pale cheeks turned a light shade of red as the corners of his mouth twitched into a nervous smile. "Me? Uh, y-yes my break just started, I was... gonna make some ramen and-"

"_Again_? Nah, about we go out somewhere? My treat - you know I got promoted to co-manager, right?"

"Mooney did mention it-"

"Well, I never got to properly celebrate it. And I wouldn't have gotten it without you, sooooo~" her shoulders raised as her lips stretched into a sheepish smile, "let's go out for lunch! There's a new sandwich shop that opened just a couple blocks away, and I can fill you in on this crazy Yakuza mess."

"O-o- ... okay!"

There it was again - that spark, that flood of color that suddenly washed over his dull and dreary little world. He couldn't help but grin like an idiot as he followed her out, and if he were a puppy, his tail would have been wagging furiously. He listened and laughed and commented on her story as she recounted her last couple of days with the GCPD, and before their conversation took a single break, they were already sitting on the concrete wall outside the sandwich shop, unwrapping their fresh-made subs.

"So the detectives get to be the hero, the Gotham streets are just a little bit cleaner, and the Yakuza get their justice."

"That's... I mean, I gotta say, that was... well, it was, uh- very _noble_ of you, I suppose, to be so motivated to help them."

"You know me, baby, I'm here to protect and serve!" With a cocky grin, she suddenly chomped down on her sandwich and took a huge bite.

They chuckled and made jokes and watched the people passing by as they ate, and the longer they were together, the less confident she felt in her ability to keep him as merely an asset. She had a gift for playing and manipulating people, sure, but she always lacked true relationships... and was always afraid she lacked the capacity to form them. But especially after forming such a strong bond to Detective Cruz, she realized there were people out there who she could connect with - _truly_ connect with - and it became obvious that the odd, quirky guy beside her was one of those rare people. _So fuck protocol_, she told herself, and would no longer fret over the fact that he had become important to her.

"Hey, Oz..." she spoke quietly after balling up the sub wrapper, her gaze glued to the street, "I... need to talk to you about something."

His head perked up, concern growing as he noted her suddenly serious tone. "Uh- sure. A-Anything."

"I..." Belle hesitated for a moment, trying to construct an elaborate and flowery string of words. Funny, she was always good at talking her way out of situations, but it seemed like the most raw of feelings were the hardest to put into language. "I've... been pretty shitty to you lately. I never intended to, of course, but... you've been so sweet and kind and I..." Her brow gently furrowed as she looked up and met his sapphire gaze. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."

Heat kissed at his cheeks as he stared into her eyes, and he felt like he could see right into her soul. For someone so skilled at manipulating and playing people, for someone who thrived in the life of crime, she had to be the most genuine person he'd ever met. And no one had ever valued his feelings like that before... was their friendship that important to her? It took a moment for him to be able to react, and even then he could only smile and shrug his shoulders with a slight bounce. "Y-you're forgiven."

A smile slowly spread across her face and she gently leaned her head against his shoulder. "Don't... let me push you away anymore."

"Alright," he nearly whimpered out, his face flushed with red as the corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile, "_I won't_."

* * *

**a/n;**

**YO. I'm so sorry, this chapter took me flippin' forever to write. And it didn't help that school has been crazy these past couple weeks so I haven't had nearly as much time to spend writing. But I hope it was worth it~ :'D I like these long chapters because it gives me more room to lay out a little episode but man it just takes forever to get through... LUCKILY THO, LUCKILY I already have like half of the next chapter written out! So expect a much sooner update! Also, I hope you guys liked my new detectives - they're actually based entirely on my rl friends xD we have this thing similar to Stan Lee appearing in all his Marvel films, I tend to include my friends as characters somehow in everything. But I thought it would be important to give Belle some genuine friendships, especially at a time where she's feeling completely ungrounded. And there was some Belle/Oswald at the end, there... but OHOHO. Next chapter is pretty much entirely devoted to the their relationship.**

**Like always, you guys are super awesome! Keep reviewing and let me know what you think! :D I always welcome feedback and constructive criticism!**

* * *

**Next chapter...**_ "Fever"._

"NO," she said with a rare sternness in her voice as she pushed him back down onto the futon, leaning over him with her hands at his shoulders. He was quite certain at this point that it wasn't the fever that caused the heat in his face. "I'll take over your shift. I'll talk to Mooney, I'll figure something out. But I can't let you work, not like this."


	7. Fever

**a/n; **

**I ended up combining the prologue and Ch1 into a single chapter, so that the chapter numbers would line up instead of being one off. So make sure you read the true Ch6, "Incision" before this one! Sorry for any confusion~ ^_^;; but hopefully you will enjoy this chapter, it's a break from the action and has quite a bit more Oswald! :D**

* * *

**UNBOUND**  
_Chapter 7: Fever_

"At least simulated vulnerability is bearable for those  
who cannot withstand unreasonable tenderness."

Chelsey Minnis, _Zirconia_

* * *

The club music rattled and thumped against her ears and through her bones as Belle waited at the small table-for-two, biding her time by clicking away on her phone. She'd excitedly texted her new friend, Detective Krystal Cruz, about taking her advice and apologizing to Oswald, and naturally the other female had demanded every detail of the encounter. It was like being in high school all over again - only this time Belle _had_ friends. From the corner of her eye, she saw her coworker approaching with drinks and looked up with a smile, politely putting her phone back in her pocket.

"Here we are." Gilzean grinned, placing one tall glass of clear liquid on the table before sitting across from her. "Now that I know you can handle your alcohol, I wanted to treat you to the fancy stuff. This here's the _Southern Belle_."

"What? It is _not~_" she laughed, taking the glass and peering into it as if closer observation would reveal its secrets. "What's in it?"

"Hopefully alcohol."

Her brow raised as she playfully gave him a _not taking your shit_ look, then slowly put the glass to her lips and took a sip. Immediately she pulled it back and coughed, her expression contorting into disgust. "_Oh my god_, what the hell is that?!"

He couldn't hold in his laughter, trying to hold his glass steady. "Never had moonshine, eh?"

"Moonshi- are you sure this isn't gasoline?!"

"Strong taste for a strong drink," he said, still shaking with chuckles. "Trust me, down it and everything else will taste however you want it to." Holding up his glass, he waited for her to finally nod and hold her own glass up. "To my new co-manager!"

"To _being_ the new co-manager," she repeated, and on cue they both took a long drink.

By the time she'd gotten halfway through her glass, she was already feeling the buzz, which made the second half much easier to get down. She and Gilzean had gone for a Managers' Night Out at **My Alibi** to celebrate her promotion, but with work tomorrow, neither of them planned to get too terribly intoxicated.

"Hey, Belles," he spoke with a smirk and a subtle nod to the side, "you've got an admirer."

"Hmm?" Casually glancing toward the direction he indicated, she ended up locking eyes with a younger man who quickly flashed her a dazzling and charismatic grin. Her gaze snapped back to Gilzean as she suddenly felt awkward and tense. "Oh god. Why did you make me look?!"

"What? You don't think he's attractive? Not your type?"

"I mean yeah, he's cute, I'm not blind but..." Her cheeks began to sear with heat as her thoughts picked up where her voice had trailed off. _But he's no Oswald_. "I- ... am just not romantically interested at the moment."

"And since when did romance have anything to do with it?" He gave her a playful wink, and she dropped her jaw in pretend-shock.

"You are such a dog!"

He laughed again and she smiled, but something far behind him caught her eye. A couple of guys were at the bar, looking rather agitated as they argued with the bartender. She could tell by his body language he was starting to feel threatened; his jaw was set, his back straightened, his muscles tense. "Uh... I'm gonna go get some water," she said, standing up, "do you need anything?"

"Sure, get me one, too. Thanks."

Standing up, she sauntered over to the bar, lingering until she saw the guys finally leave and watched the bartender slowly exhale with relief. Once they were gone, she slipped right into their spot and asked for two waters. The bartender nodded and grabbed a couple glasses.

"Couldn't help but notice those guys in front of me," she casually remarked as he filled the glasses with water, "looked like they were about to start trouble."

"Ugh, they try to," he grumbled bitterly, "coming in all the time actin' like they own the joint."

"Do they ever get violent?"

"Sometimes. Usually just with other patrons. Someone'll tell 'em to shut up, they go all alpha male. Gettin' ballsier though, comin' in and threat'nin me _personally_."

"And... I guess you can't exactly go to the police for help."

"_Ayyy_," he said with a fake grin as he set her full glasses on the counter, "viva Gotham, right?"

"What about one of the crime bosses? I'm sure none of them want anything happening to our one safe, neutral zone."

"You jus' answered your question. We're neutral here. If I go to anyone in particular, it'll get crazy. They'll start thinkin' they get special privilege, rivals will stop comin', and soon I'll be expected to start payin' off some mob goon. Ain't nobody in this city offerin' fair help, that's just all there is."

After a moment of thought, Belle quickly grabbed a clean napkin from the dispenser on the counter and pulled out a pen from her pocket. Jotting down her number, she slid it towards him with a smile and a nod. "You've been around criminals much too long, you could use a little faith. Next time you need some unaffiliated and _neutral_ help, give me a call."

He glanced from the napkin to her, and back to the napkin before finally nodding and folding it up to stick in his pocket. "Yeah... alright. Appreciate it."

With another smile, she excused herself and returned to Gilzean with their waters.

* * *

[**a/n**; it is now one month before the Waynes' shooting]

Another week had flashed by before Belle realized, and she had enjoyed every moment of it. Her new position as co-manager left her with a much more open schedule, and the work wasn't nearly as exhausting as waiting tables and constantly running around the restaurant floor. The only problems she had were with the business aspect of the job, but luckily Oswald was there and always seemed so happy to assist her. The two of them had grown even closer over the past several days, now that she decided to drop her guard around him. Their conversations had slowly evolved from banter and small talk to personal matters, and they'd even developed little inside jokes to keep themselves amused. Their latest one involved them calling each other a different name every time they spoke - he'd pop into the kitchen with a _"Mandy, where did you put the shift paperwork?"_ and she wouldn't even look away from the waiter she was chatting with to reply _"Second drawer, Joe."_ and he'd nod with a _"Thanks, Susan!"_ before leaving, and it would take her a moment of everyone's confused stares to laugh and explain their game. She also started giving Oswald the abundance of leftover food at the end of every night, knowing he overworked himself to take care of him and his mother, and couldn't stand the thought of wasting it all.

But it wasn't just with Oswald that she had really flourished - she'd tightened her friendships with Gilzean and even most of the waitresses. Once she stopped worrying about trying to stay superficial with everyone, she found herself emerging as a buzzing little socialite. She could even reduce Fish Mooney to a pile of tears and laughter with a few crazy stories from her childhood and some well-timed jokes. As strange as it was to feel this way, Belle couldn't help but feel like she was exactly where she should be - where she _needed_ to be. These people around her had quickly become her new family, and every night when she left her job and journeyed home to a silent, empty apartment, she'd be struck with the realization that one day she would lose it all. No... One day she'd have to _throw it away_. When her mission called for it, she'd have to toss everyone aside and move forward, and once it was all over and she was giving Falcone the cockiest of grins while he was being locked up in a cell... well, she wouldn't have any reason to stay in Gotham. She'd get another case, another mission, somewhere else in the country and off she'd go, to start from scratch all over again.

Every night, she was reminded why she was so guarded in the first place.

FBI Agent McCall was overly naggy when she finally texted him back to meet for a case update. She was a bit colder towards him than he was used to, even after he promised not to whine so much about her schedule. He agreed to reduce her required reports to once every two weeks, and she agreed to try harder at more consistent communication. However, she found herself leaving out a lot of information and pieces of stories that included anyone at Mooney's, afraid that he'd jump the gun and remind her to keep her distance from other people. To keep everything fake and surface-level.

It must have been 3am when Belle returned to her apartment after her shift, flicking on the kitchen light to grab a quick snack before bed. Linkin Park's _"Somewhere I Belong"_ suddenly rang out from her pocket and she pulled out her phone, resting it between her ear and her shoulder as she rummaged through the fridge for a yogurt._  
_

"Hello?"

"Hey, Isabelle- it's Shay, from Mooney's? I'm sorry for calling so late-"

"Oh no, it's no problem!" Shay was one of the newer waitresses, and the two of them seemed to hit it off when Belle offered to show her the ropes. "What's up, is everything okay?"

"Well, _I'm_ fine but... it's my mom. She's in the hospital again, they're doing some pre-op thing tomorrow and I can't let her go through that alone."

"You need the day off?"

"I've tried asking around, but none of the other waitresses could cover my shift. And I didn't wanna ask for time off since I just started wor-"

"Don't worry about that! You go be with your mother, that's more important. I can cover your shift tomorrow."

"Wait, really?!"

"Yeah. I mean, it's what I was doing just a week ago, so it's no big deal. Gilzean can handle the manager duties."

"Oh my god, thank you so much!"

"Like I said, it's no big deal."

"It is to me! Belle, you're the best. I promise I'll make it up to you!"

"Pfft, don't worry about it. You go rest now!"

"Alright, and you too! Thank you again!"

Belle laughed, popping open her yogurt. "Night, Shay."

"Goodnight!"

With a click, she hung up the call and put her phone on the counter, then gave a dramatic sigh while drooping her shoulders. "Guess it's back to an early shift tomorrow~"

* * *

The next day, Belle showed up to the nightclub in the early evening, just as she had done when she worked as a waitress. She didn't particularly mind, especially since it was for the sake of helping out a friend - and it also meant more time to bug Oswald. He'd always been her favorite, but now that they'd both come out of their shells around each other, he was easily her favorite part of the job. As she walked in, Frankie gave her a curious stare and she quickly explained herself, just as Gilzean rounded the corner and she had to give her explanation a second time. He could only smile at her and shake his head with a quiet laugh. "Always the hero, eh?"

She returned the smile, rubbing the back of her neck. "Heh, I guess." It probably did seem strange for someone in the business of organized crime to be so... altruistic. Either way, she excused herself to go get ready and headed towards the break room to grab her old waitress uniform. As she entered, she saw Oswald clinging the counter, his back heaving from labored breath. Shutting the door behind her, she nearly leaped to his side to see what was wrong. "Oz, what the hell?!"

While he'd always been pale, his skin was sickly and almost translucent in appearance. His nose and cheeks were red with heat and the dark circles under his eyes were even darker than usual. With a sniffle, he turned away from her, realizing how obvious his affliction was. "I-I'm fine. Just a little tired, no worries."

"I don't have to be a mathematician to calculate the amount of bullshit in that answer," she remarked with a raised brow, though her sarcasm could barely mask her growing concern. "Seriously, you look like hell."

His fists tightened against the counter's surface. "It's... It's just a bug. I'll be fine."

"_Oswald_."

After a moment, he slowly turned to face her, and she could see the severity of his illness in his glazing eyes. He could only hold her gaze for a moment before looking away. "Belle, I-I appreciate your concerns but I promise I... I'm fine." He could barely spit out a full sentence before running out of breath. "Tomorrow's my day off, so... I only have to make it... through tonight."

"Like _hell_ you are! Just take the night off, I'm sure Mooney will under-"

"I-I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't? Look, I know she can be vicious but one look at you and she'll-"

"She'll let me go, but... but I don't get paid if I'm not here."

"What? Really? Well I mean, it might be best just to bite the bullet and go-"

"I _can't_, Belle. As I said before, I'll... be fine."

Her brow furrowed at his stubbornness. Clearly he was unfit to work, but he insisted on toughing through it. But why? Was one day's pay that important to him? She then remembered that he was the sole provider for him and his mother... and she wondered if he truly couldn't afford to miss a single paycheck. "Fine," she said, her mind already made up as she walked over to the luxurious red sofa at the far end of the room. Pulling off the cushions, she reached down and unfolded it into a full-sized futon mattress as he watched her curiously.

"What are you doing...?"

After replacing the cushions and grabbing a set of blankets from the storage closet and plopping them onto the mattress, she turned back to him with crossed arms. "If you insist on staying, you'll at least be staying in a bed."

"Wh-what...? Belle, I-"

"I get it," she said, returning to him, "you need the money. Trust me, I get it." He only stared at her with a gaping mouth and loss of words, and she pulled him towards the fold-out couch. "But you'll get even worse if you overwork yourself. You need to rest, I'll cover for you-"

"Belle," he finally said, turning away from the makeshift bed and making a feeble attempt to push past her, "I truly appreciate it but I-"

"NO," she said with a rare sternness in her voice as she pushed him back down onto the futon, leaning over him with her hands at his shoulders. He was quite certain at this point that it wasn't the fever that caused the heat in his face. "I'll take over your shift. I'll talk to Mooney, I'll figure something out. But I can't let you work, not like this."

Again he was at a loss for words, staring up at her with widened eyes. She wasn't often so adamant, but when she was, she never backed down - he had no choice but to submit. "I-I..."

"Don't worry. I've got you covered. I'll go talk to her and be right back to let you know, okay?"

He could only nod, and her stern expression softened into a smile before she spun around and left the room. It was only after he was alone in the silence that he realized Belle was awfully early for work tonight.

* * *

"What do you mean, little Oswald is _sick_?" Mooney asked with her usual purr. "He hasn't asked to take the night off. Can't be that bad."

Belle rubbed her arm as she tried to calculate a different approach. It was obvious that Fish Mooney knew exactly what was going on but had no sympathy for him - something that truly baffled her given how motherly Mooney acted towards her crew, _especially_ to Oswald. "He's stubborn. He wants to push through it."

"Then let him."

"I... I'm afraid it'll only make him worse," she admitted, hoping the truth would be enough to sway her boss' favor. "However, I know his duties are very important, and I promise I'll do my best to-"

"Don't you have _another_ shift to cover tonight?"

Belle's eyes widened slightly. She'd almost forgotten about her previous engagement. "Err, yes, but-"

"Tsk tsk, baby girl," Mooney cooed with pouted lips and a waving finger, "you don't need to spread yourself so thin. It's not your responsibility to carry everyone else's _dead weight_. You've already given yourself an extra shift tonight, so either Oswald pulls himself together _real_ quick or he goes home."

"But- _please_, Miss Mooney. I can do both. I'll wait tables and in between I'll help you with whatever you need. Oswald taught me how to fill out your business ledger, and Gilzean's shown me how you like your paperwork done."

"Hah! Are you really that determined to prove yourself?"

Belle fell quiet for a moment, remembering what Detective Lodrigues had said about her ego. It was true, she pushed herself to the edge with nearly everything she did because she enjoyed proving to everyone else that she was capable - but this wasn't about her. "I'm not trying to prove anything," she spoke quietly, "but we're a family, right? Isn't that what we do for each other? Carry each other's burdens when they lack the strength?"

Fish Mooney stared at the girl, in either bewilderment or wonder she couldn't tell, and finally let out a snide chuckle. "I didn't realize you were such a humanitarian. That bleeding heart of yours will be the death of you, one of these days."

"One of these days," she repeated with a shrug, playing off her comment casually although something about it seemed awfully foreboding. "But until that day comes, I'll gladly carry my friends' burdens."

"_Fine_," Mooney suddenly hissed, "but listen very carefully, Isabelle. You start slackin' on either of your jobs and I'll _gladly_ reduce your load."

"Y-Yes ma'am!" Belle replied, her eyes lighting up as she grinned, then left to get her uniform and tell Oswald he wouldn't have to worry.

* * *

"A-Are you sure?" the pale-faced Oswald asked in between sniffles.

"Of course!" Belle replied with a cheerful tone. "This way, you can rest _and_ you don't have to lose your paycheck. I told you I'd work it out~"

He hated the thought of causing more work for her, of not earning his wages himself; but he was left with little choice and she seemed so determined to help him out. With a gentle nod, he finally agreed to her request but before he knew it, she was behind him slipping off his jacket. His cheeks plummeted through several shades of red as she neatly placed it on the table beside them.

"Alright, then! You just relax and take it easy tonight, okay?" Without waiting for a response, she opened the closet and pulled out her waitress uniform, then quickly fled the room before he could ask any further questions. She had a feeling he wouldn't have ever agreed to the arrangement if he knew she was already covering another shift - and she was right. Oswald watched with a confused gaze as she left with her uniform, and all was quiet once more. He took a deep breath and sighed, sitting back down on the futon and kicking his shoes off before letting himself fall back onto the pillows, weakened blue eyes staring up listlessly at the ceiling.

It was a strange feeling, he thought to himself, to know that someone had his back and was willing to go the extra mile just for him. He'd seen it happen to others - countless others - family, friends and lovers, classmates and coworkers. He always despised them in the most bitter of ways, because of how _easy_ they made it look. Like it was just natural to have such fierce and loyal friends, to be treated with kindness and compassion by others. Did they even realize how good they had it? He'd shuffled through an entire childhood without a single friend, and awkwardly stumbled through adolescence without so much as a kind and genuine word from anyone but his own mother. He could never understand; he watched his classmates, saw them laugh and smile and joke around as naturally as they breathed air. What was he, then, to be utterly incapable of accomplishing these interactions even with the greatest of efforts?

He'd often imagined an anonymous figure there with him, helping him up when he was shoved down, cutting down his bullies until they cried and promised never to hurt him again. But that never happened, of course, he never had anyone to stick up for him, and he'd long abandoned the notion that such a person could exist. And yet, as miserable as his years had been, they had all led up to the present, where he suddenly found himself with something quite invaluable in his life.

He could never forget the very instant they met, on the first day she'd come to work for Fish Mooney. He remembered grimacing when he first saw her; he typically loathed females, and attractive ones even more so. As much as he was ridiculed and taunted as a kid, he learned how to take a beating. Bruises stopped bothering him after a while, and physical pain was temporary. But it was the girls - _always the girls_ \- who had this uncanny ability to make him feel like jumping in front of a speeding truck, and they did so with a smile. He'd already hated her when she walked over to meet him and the others in Mooney's crew, but as always he wore a friendly smile, and his polite manner never faltered; and as always, Juan never missed an opportunity to cut him down, to trip him up when he was only trying to put his best foot forward. He remembered waiting for her to laugh, to make some remark that would forever validate his immediate dislike for her. When she didn't, he waited for something even worse; _pity_. But she gave him neither pity nor mockery - she caught a glimpse of his pain and merely smiled and shared her own, as if they were comparing battle scars. As if they were equal.

And he didn't want her to know that he noticed the way she would glare at the others during her first couple weeks of employment. They'd catch her terrifying leer every time they made snide comments to him, or called him _penguin_. Once, he was even sure that she elbowed one of them in the ribs for cracking a joke about him, even though his back had been turned. He could still hear Juan's sharp intake of breath and a muffled groan, and could still clearly see in his mind what he saw when he glanced over his shoulder - a sweetly smiling Belle and a doubled-over porky asshole with his meaty hand pressed against his sides. That was something he'd never seen before, and he took a picture of it in his mind; memories captured intentionally always seemed to last more vividly. It had only been her fifth day with them, and he knew _then_ that she was something very different.

* * *

"Yes sir, right away!" Belle chirped with the enthusiasm of a Disney princess as she tucked her notepad into her pocket and quickly retreated to the kitchen to put in the tables' orders. "Two grilled chicken caesars and a T-bone, medium rare, please!" She went to scurry back off towards Mooney's office when the chef called her.

"Belle, stick around. Almost done with your Table 3."

She stopped and spun around. "Oh! Great!" While she waited, she pulled out the club's business ledger and her pen and hurriedly flipped it open to where she'd left off. She'd only had time to jot down the next few numbers when a platter of steaming fresh food was set on the stainless steel counter. "Awesome! Thanks, Dane!" Shoving the book back into her pocket, she carefully grabbed the platter and ran out to serve her other table.

"Excuse me, miss, could I get a refill?" - _Sure thing!_  
"Oh, my order's not right, I asked for my salad dressing on the side?" - _No problem, ma'am!_  
"Could I get another fork?" - _Of course!_

Perhaps it was the fact that she had an entirely separate list of tasks to complete at the same time, but tonight seemed especially busy. She fluttered around the tables like a worker bee, filling drinks and smiling and making small conversation and recommending menu items. She'd forget to break away and go get the newly readied food from the kitchen, and would be promptly reminded with an overly polite _"When do you think will our food be ready?"_ from the table. Any customer dissatisfaction would quickly dissipate when she included a free round of appetizers to make up for the wait - she was also the manager, after all.

After an hour of nonstop hustle-and-bustle, she hit a lull where everyone was fat and happy and slipped away to finish crunching numbers and return the ledger to Mooney.

"You're good for the next week, Miss Mooney!" she offered her best smile, but her boss wasn't buying it.

"Took you a bit longer than I expected."

"Oh, I apologize! I took a bit of extra time to double-check that I did the system properly."

"I see. And how are my happy customers?"

"Very happy," she said reassuringly.

"Good. Because now I need you to take out the trash. Oh, and then sanitize the freezer, it's well due for a cleaning."

"Sure thing, boss!" As Belle left the room, her smile faded into a hopeless grimace. _How in the world am I going to do this all night? _But she couldn't complain and she couldn't groan, not with Fish Mooney watching her like a hawk for the first sign of weakness. She knew Mooney was piling on menial tasks to try and get her to cave in, but she was determined to see out her promises.

After taking out the trash - all ten very large, very full, and very heavy bags of it - she cleaned herself up and washed her hands and ran back onto the floor to deliver another round of food and refill drinks and replace silverware and offer desserts and pack to-go boxes. Once she had everyone satisfied for the moment, she disappeared off into the kitchen with a bucket full of scrub-brushes and cleaning supplies and opened the door to the walk-in freezer.

"Hey Belle," Dane the chef would chime in as he scuttled over, "order's up for your stir-fry and soup."

Her readied hands, armed with the fiercest of sanitation chemicals, suddenly drooped and fell limp at her sides. She threw her head back and furrowed her brow with a silent groan, then took a deep breath, set down her supplies, and rushed the food out to its table with a happy grin. It was that moment, when she set the hot bowl of steaming vegetable soup in front of the elderly woman, that she was struck with an idea - and suddenly felt the energy of a thousand suns surge through her small frame.

She had scrubbed clean three of the four shelves in the freezer when Dane poked his head in again to let her know her delivery had arrived. Excitedly, she jumped up and left a trail of flames to the back door of the nightclub, opening it up to see a scrawny teenager in a green apron and beige Panera Bread hat holding a paper sack. "Ah! Thank you so much! Here, keep the change!" His face lit up as she handed him a few $20 bills and he nodded before leaving, and she retreated inside.

Slowly and gently, she opened the door to the darkened break room and quietly approached Oswald's bedside. As soon as she got near, his head perked up and he turned to her with a weak smile.

"Oh, good! You're awake!"

"Wh-what's that?" He asked sleepily, sitting up as she pulled over the high wooden table. With a smile, she set the bag down and pulled out a to-go carton of his favorite baked potato soup.

"I thought you might be hungry and I know you don't like the restaurant food anymore."

"... so you went to Panera?"

"You love Panera."

He stared at her in near-disbelief, trying to wrap his head around how matter-of-factly she spoke. Didn't she realize how unnecessary it was to go through all that trouble just for him? Yet she stared back, her bright green eyes wide and blinking as if she'd done nothing out of the ordinary. It made him feel extremely guilty, but there was also a burning gratitude underneath; he'd truly grown quite hungry and he couldn't have imagined a more perfect meal. "Well... th-thank you," he finally said, taking the spoon she offered him. Somewhere deep within his chest, he could feel something twitch. It was rusted and rotted and dirty and broken and it was _beating_. "So... how's it going out there...?"

"Oh, it's fine. Business as usual," she uttered with an overly casual tone, "just be glad your nose is stuffy. I probably smell like bleach."

His eyes widened in confusion as he sheepishly ate a bite of soup. "B-Bleach?"

She grinned and waved her hand in the air. "Just cleaning the walk-in freezer, no big deal. Nothing you wouldn't be doing, right?"

He watched her for a moment. "I... don't clean the freezer," he muttered before taking another bite, and couldn't help but feel amused at her expression developing into one of shock.

"Wait... what? You don't?"

"I don't even know who does."

"Oh..." she stared off into space for a moment, then lazily pulled out a chocolate chip cookie from the Panera bag and broke off a piece to nibble on. "_Oh_."

"Fish didn't really like the idea, did she..."

"No she did not."

That sounded like Mooney. She loved to play the part of caring and loving leader, but she was as ruthless as they came. If the fever wasn't already boiling his blood, his anger would have. _Giving Belle senseless but exhausting tasks just to prove a point, tch_. She didn't show it much, but he could tell she was exhausted and he cursed his weak constitution.

"But - never fear!" He snapped out of his thoughts, blinking as Belle suddenly took another bite of cookie and appeared as invigorated as ever. "I'm a phoenix, Oz. She can try to burn me up but I'll rise from the ashes!"

_Aaaaand she's cracked_, he thought to himself with another spoonful of soup.

She quickly finished the rest of her snack as she glanced up to the clock. "Shit, this phoenix needs to have a clean freezer." Standing up, she gave him a sweet smile and a _see ya_ before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

* * *

It was much later in the evening, and Oswald had already dozed in and out several times since dinner. His chest swelled as he stared at the closed door, knowing that the low hum of the club's music combined with conversational chatter meant that everything was running smoothly. No screaming, no gunshots, no rocking of the boat at all, which meant Belle must be doing her absolute best of managing both shifts. She must have been wearing herself out, tending to both customers and personally to Mooney, and as guilty as he felt about it, he couldn't help but feel a gleam of happiness that someone could care enough to put themselves through that stress just for his sake. Poor Belle, running around like a decapitated chicken to keep everything afloat, so that he could rest.

But then he slowly started to remember. Other memories, trickling into his subconscious, of the favors Belle had done for everyone else over the past month. She'd run to the convenience store for super glue after Tiu knocked over one of Mooney's precious decorative statues, and gone with Juan's sister to pick out a wedding dress. He'd never seen her pass a panhandling bum on the street without dropping some money for them. She risked her life to rescue Falcone's nephew and teamed up with GCPD detectives to catch killers that terrorized the Yakuza. She had a burning passion to help everyone, to do whatever was in her power to make others happier.

The way she made him feel, he wondered if that's how she made _everyone_ feel.

He felt his heart slowly sink, his realization kicking him back into his place. She showed that same kindness and loyalty to all of them, and he'd be foolish to think he was anything special. _She_ was the one who was special, but she wasn't his, and she never would be his. She was the only person who could brighten his world and move his stale heart, but she deserved someone who would brighten hers in return. He couldn't want her, he wouldn't allow himself to. It wouldn't be fair, to either of them. No, he was better off just burying those thoughts.

Sometimes, he really despised her kindness.

He felt sleep dragging him back down into the darkness, but for some reason he was afraid of falling asleep. It must have been closing time soon, and if he was asleep, he wouldn't get to see her before she left. _How hypocritical_, he thought... He was nothing special to her and she'd become the whole world to him, and it made him angry and hurt and frustrated and he'd rather never see her again than be forced to endure her sweet poisonous company - and yet here he was, forcing himself to stay awake just so he could tell her goodnight. When did he become so pathetic? As much as he wanted to fight, he was consumed with a fever.

Darkness faded into a dark room as his eyes slowly opened. He didn't even remember falling asleep, but everything was silent. No voices, no music, no footsteps... just silence. He squinted at the clock on the wall and made out the time - 4:25 am. Everyone was long gone by this point. His desire to tell her goodnight was silly and childish and fickle but it had been a desire nonetheless, and he had no reason to mask his disappointment. With a heavy sigh, he rolled over on his side - and _froze_.

Her figure was relaxed, her body practically melting against the blankets, her silent breath slow and steady, her hair falling haphazardly around her gentle features.

His eyes widened as he felt a wave of heat crash over him, but took the opportunity to selfishly indulge in her form - until he suddenly had to sneeze. _Goddammit_, he shouted internally before turning away and burying his face into his elbow. It didn't do much to stifle the sound. Slowly he lowered his arm and peered back over to see if she was still asleep, just in time to watch her brow begin to twitch before her eyes flicked open. They closed again as her lips spread into a drowsy smile, and he didn't dare move a muscle. His efforts were in vain, however, and her eyes opened once more and she suddenly sat straight up.

"O-Oh! Hi! I, uh-" Her cheeks quickly flushed as she fully came to, hoping he didn't mind that she'd crashed next to him, and absent-mindedly scuttled as far to the opposite edge of the futon as she could without falling off. "I-I'm sorry, Mooney left for the night and Gilzean said he'd close and I was too tired to drive and I thought I'd just grab a quick nap and-" Her stumbling words came to an abrupt stop as she watched him, trying to gauge for his reaction because all he could seem to do was stare back at her, his entire face a deep red. "Whoa, you're like... _tomato-toned!_" Crawling forward, she reached up to hold the back of her hand against his forehead, which only caused his blush to deepen further. "Oz, you're seriously burning up! I'll go grab a cold washclo-"

She had turned to jump off the bed but stopped when he reached out for her wrist. "I-I'm fine," he spoke softly, finally managing a sheepish smile, "I... I just..." His eyes glanced from her to the sheets and she caught his drift, her own blush returning now that she knew he was okay.

"Oh! Yeah, heh, I-I didn't mean to- I mean, I was only gonna rest for a second, I guess I just fell into a deep sleep- I hope you don't mind!"

Now that he'd had time to get over his reaction and assess the situation, he was able to pull himself together and compose a proper sentence, his cheeks quickly fading back to their usual pale. "Not at all, you must have worked hard."

"Yeah, I... okay, this _one time_ I'll admit, it was a bit of a struggle."

"Oh, just a bi-" He abruptly stopped when she made a sharp inhale, watching as she covered her nose with her hands and ducked forward with a squeaky little '_choo!'_ and couldn't help but smile. "Bless..." - his smile suddenly left, his eyes widening - "...you."

She sniffled and gently rubbed her nose with a groan. "Well _shit_..."

* * *

Oswald took a deep breath before raising his fist to rap gently against the door to Belle's apartment. He should have been spending his day off resting and recuperating, but as soon as he heard that she'd ended up taking a sick day, he couldn't help but feel responsible for getting her sick and wanted to make it up to her. After all, she took care of him the previous day - having the opportunity to return a genuine favor was something new and rather exciting for him.

A brief moment passed before a rather frazzled Belle answered the door. Her messy, untamed hair bounced wildly around her shoulders and across her face, which was a shade or two more pale than it had been yesterday. And she was still simply adorable, even in her oversized pink polo that hung down to her thighs- _oh god_. His eyes locked with hers, suddenly afraid to let his gaze wander.

"Hey! You made it over!"

A coy smile emerged as he shrugged his shoulders. "I remembered the way from last time. Oh! I brought you something!" Holding up the plastic bag on his arm, his other hand reached inside and pulled out a box of flavored vanilla chai tea.

"I-Is that..." her eyes lit up, the color rushing back into her face as she brushed aside a strand of hair. "Pumpkin spice chai?!"

"Mhmm," he hummed with a smile, and she excitedly jumped back and opened the door all the way to usher him in. "When you texted earlier and said you were staying home, I figured I should repay the care you gave me." Walking to the kitchen, he set the box on the counter, noting the abundance of Cold &amp; Flu medicine bottles scattered around with slight concern. "I remember you saying this was your favorite?"

He turned around, but before he'd even seen her, she had thrown her arms around him in a tight hug. "You are _literally_ my favorite person."

"Belle...?" He asked, unable to suppress a grin. "Have you been chugging liquid medicine?"

"_Maybe_," she muttered against his chest.

"W-why? That can't be good-"

"-I _really_ hate being sick."

"So do I," he spoke quietly, "but I don't want you overdosing on Nyquil, either." She merely groaned in response, and he understood her pain. He'd probably rather get loopy off cold medicine than suffer through the symptoms himself. "Shall I make you a cup...?"

"Oh my god, yes please!" She immediately released him and stepped back to give him space. "Uh, I was just gonna lay around and watch the _Godfather_ movies today. Would you... wanna stay for a bit?"

Even though he'd agreed to stay, he wasn't expecting Belle to pull out a blanket and snuggle up next to him on the couch while he held their steeping tea. It was impossible to pay attention to the movie as it started, and he was so uncomfortable because of just how _comfortable_ he was. It was her poisonous company, he reminded himself, and the more he enjoyed spending time with her, the more it would hurt him later on. But telling himself that didn't change the fact that his heart was racing and fluttering and pounding and thumping, pushing life and color through his dark and empty veins. He knew it would kill him, but it didn't matter; for better or for worse, Belle was the only one who could make his heart beat.

* * *

**a/n**;

**Okay so here was something completely different! xD I wanted to do something a bit more light and fun, and of course with a little more Belle/Oswald interaction. I just see Oswald as being someone who gets really weak when he's sick and I thought it would make for an interesting scenario~ especially since most of the chapter ****is really just his thoughts and stuff. *can't English right now***

**SO CAN YOU BELIEVE NEXT WEEK IS THE FALL FINALE because I'm totally freaking out. But here's a little friendly reminder: Chapter 9 will cover the first half of Gotham's first episode. So you know what that means? Chapter 10 is going to be a real blast. Complete with swimming penguins. *wink wink nudge nudge* (it's going to be terrible... I can't wait). So hopefully during the series' break I will be able to catch up to the canon timeline! IT APPROACHETH. I'm super excited because as we all know, little Oswald really comes out of his shell and gets all creepy-sadistic. Aww yiss. That's another reason why I wanted to do a cute fluffy chapter now, with pre-Gotham Belle and Oz. Because obviously their dynamic is about to take an extreme change.**

**IF YOU READ THIS, BLESS YOUR FACE. I sincerely love you all, your faves and follows give me life and your reviews honestly make my day! :'D So please continue to tell me your thoughts! Also feel free to ask stuff too, I definitely reply if you review under an account! (can't reply to guest reviews though... ;_;) I LOVE YOU ALL. HAVE A GREAT DAY!**

* * *

**Next chapter...** _"For Sale"._

"Looks like you're out of money to bet with."

Oswald pursed his lips together, his calculating eyes flickering over to the side of the room where Belle was chattering away with some other patrons. Slowly, they spread into a sly grin as he looked back to the older male. "I don't suppose you have any use for a _girl_?"


	8. BONUS SCENE: Birthday Bash!

TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY, AWW YISS. So please enjoy this little "bonus scene".  
Basically a one-shot crack!fic that has nothing to do with the actual storyline  
but I think it would be fun to just THROW EVERYONE TOGETHER for a party!

Warning: asinine tomfoolery ahead.

* * *

**UNBOUND**  
_Bonus Scene: Birthday Bash  
_

* * *

The sound of giggles slowly faded into her consciousness and she gradually became aware of the sensation of something pushing against her cheek. When Belle finally opened her eyes, they immediately met the intense stare of Detective Cruz, who suddenly felt the need to shout.

"BELLE YOU'RE AWAKE!"

"AHHH WHY ARE WE YELLING?!" She quickly sat up and, upon doing so, saw Detective Lodrigues standing near the foot of her bed. "AND WHY ARE YOU GUYS IN MY APARTMENT."

"BECAUSE IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY, WOMAN!" With a jump, Krystal made an unsolicited belly-flop on top of the sleepy agent. "SO YOU NEED TO GET UP AND GET READY!"

Belle made a squeak as she was assaulted by the detective and began to squirm and flail in a pitiful attempt at freedom. "What am I getting ready for?!"

As if she'd uttered some sort of forbidden thousand-year curse, Krystal sat up and froze, staring at her in disbelief. "What are... WHAT ARE YOU GETTING READY FOR?! What kind of question is that?!" She blinked for a moment and glanced over her shoulder. "Lodi where the hell are you? Do you believe this woman?!"

Before either of them could prepare, Lodi leaped onto the bed beside Krystal and assisted her in crushing the birthday girl under their enthusiasm.

"WE'RE GONNA PARTY TILL WE'RE PURPLE."

"I LOVE BEING PURPLE!"

"Th-there are too many people in my bed."

"NO, THERE IS PRECISELY ENOUGH."

"NO, LODI, YOU'RE WRONG." Krystal rolled over and lay next to Belle, propping herself up on her elbow as she held up Belle's phone with a mischievous grin. "There's just enough room for one more."

"Hey, that's mine!"

"I know!" Krystal gave an evil chuckle as she scrolled through Belle's contacts. "Let's see... which one of these could _possibly_ be the person I'm looking for..."

Belle suddenly found herself extremely grateful for her odd habit of nicknaming everyone in her phone. But she grew curious with every little click. "Wait... wh-who are you looking for?"

"The one person you _want_ in your bed."

A solar flare nearly shot from Belle's cheeks as she turned bright red. "Wh-what?! I WANT MYSELF IN MY BED AND THAT'S IT."

"First of all, that's kinky," Lodi said, moving over to give Belle some breathing room at last, "and secondly, _you idiot_ he's the one who fucking called us. His number should be in your call log."

"OH. RIGHT. GOT IT."

"What?! WHO. WHO ARE YOU CALLING."

"He sounded so adorable over the phone," Krystal cooed, pulling hers out and flipping it open, "I can't wait to meet him!"

"NO!" She pounced on the other female like a hungry leopard and reached out for her phone. "YOU STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING."

"NO CHANCE IN HELL, SISTA, I ALREADY CLICKED THE BUTTON!"

"WHAT?!" She stopped yelling long enough to hear the call ringing - and it suddenly picked up. She froze as she heard Oswald's little _"H-Hello?"_, and Krystal was easily able to toss her off and put the phone to her ear.

"Hey, it's Detective Cruz! Listen, we just woke up our friend Belle here and you would not believe it! She is _unfathomably_ disappointed that other people are violating her space. She wants you to come violate her space."

_Oh god. This is not happening. This is not happening._ Belle repeated her thoughts like a mantra, wondering if this was some trippy nightmare. Her skin was on fire and she could only lay there and imagine all the ways she wanted to destroy everyone in this room. Lodi could only chuckle and she shot him one of her most intimidating glares, but it had no affect.

Krystal only laughed into the phone. "Alright then! See you soon! Should I even bother telling Izzy to get dressed first or...?"

_Shit's gonna burn, shit's gonna burn._

"Great! See you soon!"

* * *

Oswald had arrived embarrassingly fast, and he was quickly assaulted by the perky detective much to Belle's dismay - but at least she managed to jump up and flail around her closet until she was decently clothed. It wasn't too long after that when Belle's door was suddenly kicked open. Detective Harvey Bullock rushed in, shouting _"GCPD!"_ before taking in his surroundings and finally holding cases of beer above his head. "I BROUGHT THE BOOZE."

Jim Gordon followed him in a minute later, catching his breath. "God, that man can run. _With two whole cases of beer_."

"Detective Gordon!" Belle grinned and greeted him with a friendly hug. "I didn't know you guys would be coming!"

"Happy birthday," he said with a smile, "but if you ask to see the captain, I may shoot you."

"OH. GREAT IDEA JIMBO." Bullock dramatically threw a pointing finger at his partner. "Beer pong! That's what this party needs!"

"Hell yeah!" Lodi shimmied into the kitchen with Bullock to help unload the beer and stock the fridge. "I always keep a spare pack of red solos in my car."

Belle gave him an inquisitive look, but Krystal nodded. "This is true. No lie, he honestly carries around a party pack."

"I'll help you bring it up, Lodi" Gordon chimed in, "but we need the ping pong balls."

"No we don't, I have those, too."

"Oh, well then we're set!"

Obvious that she had absolutely no control over the mess that was spiraling in her apartment, Belle sighed and plopped onto the couch, and Oswald sat next to her. "I... have no idea what's going on."

"Me, either."

"IT'S NOT YOUR JOB TO KNOW!" Krystal suddenly spun around. "We're the friends, you're the birthday girl, so the party is on us!" Her phone started ringing, and she walked away to answer it.

Oswald flashed Belle a rare, confident smile. "I think it's going to be a blast... whatever this is."

"It's definitely not gonna be boring, I can see that... I just..." She blinked for a moment, then blushed and pushed her pointer fingers together sheepishly. "I've never had a big birthday like this before. I don't think I've ever even had this many friends before."

"WOMAN. BELLE." Krystal rushed back over, pulling the phone away from her ear. "You've got an Xbox, right?"

"Uh... no. I have a PS3 though?"

"OH." She quickly uttered _"PS3"_ into the phone, then pulled it away and looked back to Belle. "What games?"

Belle pointed to the wooden stand that held up the tv, which held small cabinets on either side. "They're all under there."

"GOT IT." And with that, Krystal rushed over and opened the doors and quickly starting naming off all the games Belle had stacked in alphabetical order.

"You have a Playstation?" Oswald asked with widening eyes.

"Yeah? I mean, I don't get to play that much anymore, so I usually forget about it."

"I-I've never... uh, we should play some time."

"Yeah! Sure thing!"

"ALRIGHT, HE'S BRINGING THE XBOX." Krystal announced, hanging up her phone.

"Xbox? Why? Wait... who's bringing an Xbox?"

"Nygma. He wanted to bring over Portal but you didn't-"

"-who's... who's Nygma?"

"WHAT. YOU TWO DON'T KNOW EACH OTHER?!" Krystal seemed like she was about to continue shouting, but shook her head and smiled. "No worries, he's great! You'll get along."

"If by great, you mean completely _bonkers_," Bullock interjected from the kitchen, already chugging his first drink, "then yes. Haven't even met Miss Spicer but if she's anything like _you_..."

Krystal squinted her eyes dramatically. "_Oh, she is._"

A sweatdrop formed at Belle's temple. "I feel like Stu from _Rugrats_ right now..."

"What?"

"You know, the cartoon?"

Oswald blinked. "Yeah, I remember the cartoon... but what does that have to do with...?"

"Well remember how he always did weird things in his sleep?"

"Uh... sorta?"

"Well one time DeeDee walked into the kitchen at like 3 am and Stu was making chocolate pudding, and she was like _'what the hell are you doing?'_ and he just sighed and said he had no control over his life."

Oswald snorted. "Well I'd tell you to go make some chocolate pudding, but I'm guessing there's not a single appliance in your kitchen that doesn't have thermite dust in it."

Belle opened her mouth to retort, but paused and... well, he was right. Gordon and Lodi soon walked back into the apartment with a large pack of red solo cups and a whole package of white ping pong balls.

* * *

It would probably cause an awkward rift among the party guests, but Belle didn't feel right without the rest of her cohorts at her party. She'd texted Gilzean and Mooney, as well as Ryosuke and Akahara... not actually expecting them to come, but just to be polite.

But no. They arrived.

Gilzean helped Belle push her couch closer to the tv when Edward Nygma got there with his game system, so that people could play without stretching cords all across the room, and Ryosuke seemed to become insta-bros with Lodi. Akahara and Fish Mooney had never had the chance to meet, but it was surprisingly cordial.

The apartment was packed, with both detectives and crime bosses, and the only real conflict that arose was when Bullock made the very unwise decision to put in Call of Duty. Belle and Nygma were the first to be obliterated into virtual smithereens and thus moved their company to the kitchen so they could introduce themselves. Krystal had given her the heads up to give him a riddle to solve, and she'd barely finished it before he answered and that was like, all it took to become his friend.

"NO. NO. FUCK YOU, FISH," they heard Bullock shout before jumping up and chucking his controller into the couch. "THAT WAS A CHEAP SHOT."

"All's fair in love and war, Harvey~" she purred with a smirk before carefully sniping Gilzean's character.

"What the hell, boss? I WAS ON YOUR TEAM."

"Whoops. Guess my finger _slipped_."

Belle and Edward chuckled at the commotion as Oswald walked over to offer her a beer. She thanked him and took it, slamming the top against the edge of the counter to knock off the lid. "Geez, it's pretty heated in there."

"Oh, definitely. I'm surprised no one's been arrested, yet."

"Right? Oh! Oz, this is Ed. He does forensic crime scene stuff for the police department! Ed, this is Oz. He's smart and good at figuring things out. HAVE AT IT." With that, she slipped away and took a long sip of her drink as she found Krystal admiring one of her self-scribbled artworks on the wall.

"I like it. Very impressionistic. Makes me feel calm and content with myself and the world."

"Oh my god, I literally drew that in like 5 minutes."

"AND I'M SAYING IT'S GLORIOUS."

"Pffft, yeah okay. By the way, where's Lodi?"

"Oh, uh... he's in the bathroom."

"My bathroom? Doing what?!"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK."

"I dunno, you said that with a strange tone!"

"Oh. I didn't mean to."

"Oh, alright then. I just thought you meant he wasn't like... using the bathroom for normal purposes."

"Well, I mean, he was puking in the tub."

"Oka- WAIT. WHAT."

"Yeah, he texted me-"

"-THAT HE WAS PUKING IN _MY_ BATHTUB."

"Who's bathtub _would_ he be puking in? Silly."

Her bathroom door opened up and a heavily intoxicated Lodi stumbled out. "Oh god... I feel... like. Sooooo much better."

Just then, a huge crash in the living room called everyone's attention. Belle spun around just in time to see Ryosuke land a hard punch against Gilzean's face. _Oh shit_, she thought as everyone started scrambling to either join in or get out of the way.

"Uh, Krystal! Things are happening, you should totally do something!"

"Shit! UUUUH." Trying to come up with an effective plan, she darted into the middle of the chaos and pulled out her gun, waving it around. "WHOA WHOA. GC-MOTHERFUCKIN-PD. CALM YOUR SHIT."

_Very excellent_, Belle thought. They had such similar style.

* * *

After the skirmish, Krystal and Belle agreed the night may have reached a point where it would be safer for everyone to be outside. They lead the drunken party of detectives and criminals out of the apartment complex and into the field clearing behind it, and Bullock made sure they brought the rest of the booze with them. They sat the bottles down in the short, dry grass, and Ryosuke helped Krystal make a safe bon-fire to keep them warm.

Once they were safe again, Belle resumed her drinking and became awfully giggly, especially with Oswald who had been giggling furiously from the sidelines ever since the fight. Krystal also continued drinking once she was satisfied the party was going in a better direction, and the three stood around and laughed and made dumb jokes. One of the neighbors' little dogs even ran over to join them.

_This is nice_, Belle told herself as she looked around at everyone having fun together. This was the best birthday she could have ever hoped for.

Until she heard a scream.

A cockroach had somehow crawled inside Lodi's latest bottle and decided to rest right inside the bottle's neck, and when he took a swig of beer, it fell right into his throat. He choked and coughed and spit it out and screamed, and everyone found it hilarious in their drunken stupor. He, however, found it extremely disgusting - so much so that he suddenly began throwing up into the grass. The little dog immediately approached the vomit, and Lodi tried to shoo it away while he continued to puke. The dog was determined and so Lodi started to run away, while still puking to the side, to keep the dog away from him.

Krystal and Edward were cackling, Belle and Oswald were crying, Gordon and Bullock were laughing their asses off, Mooney was sobbing with laughter into Gilzean's bouncing shoulders, Akahara was passed out in the grass, and Ryosuke was howling so loudly that he dropped his bottle and didn't even care.

And the dog was still chasing a vomiting Detective Lodi.


End file.
